Dearly Beloved
by Starry Eyed Wonder
Summary: (AU, VH)She was stuck in a blizzard and he was her reluctant rescuer. Forced to share a hotel room, these two opposites learn what it is to love, to laugh. She wants the big C's: Commitment and Children; he wants neither. xD!R&R!
1. Chapter One

~ Dearly Beloved ~

_…everyone falls in love…_

**Chapter One: The Meeting of Polar Bears and Good Samaritans**

_~Love is always bestowed as a gift --   
freely, willingly, and without expectation....   
We don't love to be loved; we love to love_ ~  
~ Leo Buscaglia

          His eyes were glued onto the road ahead of him; the road that one would imagine would lead them to heaven, so _heavenly_ white it glowed. He cursed silently as the sudden gust of wind brought about masses of snow on the windshield. Damn. His alert, maroon eyes fringed by pretty, almost girlish dark lashes that countless women had thought were odd in his chiseled features, skated down to check the car's speed and the observation he made caused him to frown darkly, making the sinfully beautiful face like that of a displeased god. The car was going at fifteen miles per hour. That _had_ to be over the speed limit, huh? He shook his head at his own dry sense of humor.

          The sky glittered a pale, shadowy white-blue as the pallid scenery moved at a painfully slow pace. He reached out to the cup of coffee at his right and almost choked on the dark, bitter liquid as it entered his mouth. It was cold and very, very bitter. He sighed in frustration as he set it back down on the cup holder, running a hand through the bulk of his onyx strands of hair; how had he expected the coffee to be hot when he had bought it _two_ hours ago?  

          A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his sensually curved lips as he thought of the bubbly voice of his sister. She had always been quite a pixie like girl, a little package of a child-woman with dark red hair and charismatic blue eyes whose one innocent glance could make him want to forgive her faults such as when she insulted his Gundam toys when they were young. He shook his head with a small laugh which eventually turned into a miniature frown. 

          She was however, the indirect reason he was stuck in this ungodly blizzard. 

          She hadn't even called him to let him know, that chit! She had text messaged him, an innocent message whose words haunted and delighted him at the same time. Haunted because of the acute sense of loss…by God, she was growing up, that girl with a heedful of wavy flaming hair, and he realized with some irritation, _he_ was also aging. And yet he was delighted, he thought with an evil grin, to see that his crazy little sister had finally managed to enslave a man to her side. Her words had been brief and he could almost imagine her voice in his head as he remembered reading the note whose sender he had no doubt about…after all, it had ended with four exclamation marks. That was Merle and her patented nick name for him had given him another hint: Vanny, I am getting married! Come home!!!!

          He had immediately booked a flight only to find out that all flights had been canceled due to inclement weather. Perfect; and thus he was stuck in this unholy, mother of a snow storm. 

          His eyes froze. It was just a small blot, a small insignificant blot when the image magnified and got larger; his eyes widened, his face tensed and he was sure he was dreaming. 

          There, not too far away in the distance stood…a huge polar bear who was waving madly. 

          He squinted as he tried to get a closer look and his realization though different from the previous one still surprised him. 

          It was a she. A female, he was sure for some inexplicable reason (somehow he decided it _had_ to be a female to being doing the waving motion.) 

          The woman was dressed in a over-large white coat with a hoodie to cover her head, and white jeans. His auburn eyes widened slightly as he realized who, or what she resembled. 

          Her face was barely visible because of the hoodie and it was no wonder if his initial reaction of shock held any criticism…she could have passed for a polar bear. 

          "Stop!" she yelled and he realized that the woman had a heck of a vocal range if he was approximately ten feet away from her and his windows were sealed shut. 

          What the dark haired man hadn't realized that this would be one of the many surprises he'd encounter…

          He halted his car just a foot away from her and with brisk steps she came to knock on his window. Her face was pale, but her cheeks glowed pink from the cold. Pressing a button on the side, the window slid down and the sudden gust of wind that over took her made her shiver not unlike the trees nearby. A wave of cool air washed the interior of his car, and involuntarily, he shoved his hands in the pocket of his pants. 

          "Can I help you?" he asked, somehow finding the question a bit rhetorical since it was quite blatant that the woman needed his assistance. No, he corrected as his eyes quickly roved over her curiously; she was more girl than woman. Plus, he wasn't quite interested in aiding anyone with anything in this soul-freezing wintry weather. 

          She smiled, her pale pink lips cracked and the voice that elicited from her lips was surprisingly pleasant, not the shriek-like voice he'd imagined in a lower tone. There was a friendly lilt to her voice, an easy going aura. "Finally!" her skin looked so soft up-close, her cheeks like a young girl's, "A good Samaritan!" He was mildly amused at the situation he was in; what would some of his high class "friends" say if he told them that she thought he was a good Samaritan? Laugh, yes, that is what they would do. In his situation, his friends would've been more likely to throw a blank check out to her than physically go out and help her if she had a flat tire.

          "What is it you need?" he fisted his long-fingered hands in his pockets.

          She was the picture of a helpless maid, yet her eyes sparkled with a certain warmth, an intelligence; a combination that he'd found rarely the pleasure of witnessing. "I ran out of gasoline and I was wondering if you had any…"

          "I am afraid not."

          "Damn," the woman whispered a curse and gave a sardonic yet somehow sweet smile, "you think you can rescue a damsel in distress just this once?" She used the full-advantage of her big, trusting green eyes but it was a blatant that she didn't know that countless women had batted their lashes, given soulful stares in hopes of extracting favors that were more of a, well, carnal nature. In short, he was not to be swayed by the looks of a woman especially those whose looks said that she a sharp wit and her steady eyes reflected intelligence and maybe…a bit of mischievousness. 

          But his eyes flickered just once in what he had not dared to think of…sympathy? 

          He inwardly stiffened; when had he started to analyze a woman's eyes so deeply? He had no idea. Perhaps, two minutes ago when he'd first set eyes on her? There was this compulsion…this strange compulsion to analyze every bit of her. It was this aura that surrounded her, them, and the message that he got was strange. He knew his life was about to change. He knew he should just drive away and maybe call for help. 

          "I don't particularly enjoy rescuing careless damsels," he spoke harshly, yet silkily. There was something unnerving about the woman before him. An ominous, perhaps portentous cloud hung over them. 

          She was taken slightly aback but she recovered quickly. She decided to take another approach and rolled her eyes. Surely this would make him agree…well, _maybe_. "The nearest gas station is in fifty miles and it's freezing here!" she gave him an accusing look, "You can't give me a ride there?" 

          "You couldn't refill your tank a while back?"

          She stiffened and said with a raised eyebrow, "It was out of order."

          "What if you're a killer? How can I trust you?" the question took her by surprise and the sheer hilarity of his accusation made her burst into laughter which turned into coughs. 

          Instinctively, he reached his hand out and drew back like he'd been burned. 

          "Listen," her face was slowly beginning to flush all over as the man not only began to grate on her nerves slightly but he had no idea what she was suffering from…it felt like she was stuck in a walk-in freezer! And so she chose her words deliberately, and looked him in the eye; green imprisoning maroon ones. "If I wanted to kill you and steal your car, I would've already done that." She gave an exasperated sigh as she saw his emotionless face, and so she inched even closer to him so he saw the hypnotic depths of her green eyes ever so clearly, "You just have to trust me," she pleaded and added quietly, "I won't hurt you." 

          Damn him for his treacherous mind. He wanted to believe her! Was he crazy? Had his sister been right all these years?...that beneath his cool façade there lay a man who was absolutely irrational, and well, _insane_? Brushing away those thoughts, he cleared his voice and raised one dark eyebrow, "How do you know there's a station in fifty miles?"      

          "I've traveled this road before…many times."

          He looked at her face impassively and for a few moments the only thing that could be heard was the ragged breaths of the female and he could see the puff of vapor steal out of her lips. 

          "Get in," he said calmly, her eyes suddenly blinking…for a moment there she was convinced he'd say no and the tension was so thick in the air that it was almost tangible. So, Mr. I'm-so-Cool had a conscience.

          Walking briskly, she opened the passenger side of the door, bringing in a wave of fresh scent of cleanliness and cool temperature. The next thing she said, obviously indicated by his scowl, displeased him, "So you are a Good Samaritan, albeit the irrational heart…and oh yes, you might want to get my luggage; it's in the trunk." 

          He grumbled and it wasn't until he was outside that he realized that he could've refused her order—

          His eyes widened; since when had a woman _ordered_ him to do anything? It was always the other way around.

          Her voice carried over by the wind, "There is one suitcase; you get lucky this time."

          He growled over his back, "They're yours, why should I carry them for you?" Who said that he had to follow her? He could come right back into the car and let her go and get it for herself…he grinned wickedly, he was all for female independence. 

          "Because you don't want a poor damsel to be out there in the harsh cold any longer than for the two hours she's been," she said teasingly. His heart beat quickened involuntarily; God, she had to be cold, freezing, more like it. He grunted as he grudgingly popped her trunk and she could only giggle as a string of curses burst forth like a fountain during spring. She called it a _suit case_? It was bloody cargo, so heavy it was.

          "What do you have in here?" he looked at her incredulously as he dragged the poor, large, black suit-case to the trunk of his car. 

          Taking a deep breath, he carefully lifted it and after placing it, he shut the trunk close.

          She answered, rocking herself back in forth from the cold, rubbing her arms to create friction that would generate heat, "They're clothes, of-course."

          He regarded the hefty, yet somehow cute looking jacket she wore— Cute looking?! Excellent. Just the mere exposure of her was making him think like a female. He conjured up a high pitched female voice in his head, one that amusingly sounded much like the woman who sat besides him, _That outfit is soooo cute!!!_ The voice shrieked in his head. 

          "You're not only one who's harsh to a woman, you're obviously slow."

          "What?" he asked as he snapped back.

          "I said drive, just drive before the storm comes in full blast," she gave him an innocent look as she added, "my Good Samaritan." The tone of her voice indicated that she was being sarcastic and this annoyed the raven-haired man. 

          "Stop calling me that!" he snapped.

          She snorted as he revved up the engine, "Well I would if you weren't nameless…and so stingy…turn on the heat to full." 

          With a grunt, he turned the heat to max, instantly shot with a blast of warm air, "It's Van."

          "Pardon?" she asked, caught off guard.

          Sliding his maroon eyes until they rested on her face very briefly he spoke, "My name's Fanel; Van Fanel."

          _Do a James Bond on me, huh?_ "Van," she smiled, "Atleast your mother was a sensible woman; nice name."

          "However, you call me Mr. Fanel," he added, irritated. 

          "Mr. Fanel," she grinned, rubbing her hands together, "your mother also married a man with a nice last name. Imagine being married to a man whose last name was…" she twisted her face in thought, "_Guacamole_?"  

          He bit back a laugh; the expression on her face was priceless. The way she pronounced his last name gave him a distinct feeling that he was being mocked; a thoroughly new and irritating feeling that he had never had the _joy_ of experiencing. He cast a sideways glance at her; the woman's pale pink lips stretched into a smile, looking out the window in awe. 

          Van Fanel would've wanted to shoot himself dead than speak and initiate a conversation with the woman that had more clothes and less flesh. Woman. He had to find her name.  

          "Your name?" he asked simply, feeling rather stupid. 

          "Hitomi."

          "Last name?"

          "Kanzaki," she admitted.

          Why he asked the next question even baffled him; perhaps, as he liked to think, it was a natural instinct. "Are you married?"

          She quipped, "Are _you_ married?"

          He shrugged, "No." Any woman with half a sense could sense that he wasn't the marrying sort. She observed him carefully, dark strands of his hair sticking in odd places in a way that was almost endearing if his face would soften just a bit… Her eyes unintentionally rested on his beautifully sculpted lips and she was drawn to gaze at them for a few moment until she jerked herself, her face showing a tell tale blush. 

          "Something profound you'd like to share?"  she belatedly noticed that his voice had a husky timbre that she suddenly couldn't ignore.

          She hastily turned away, "No, of-course, not."

          "So?" he looked ahead at the road, driving steadily at twenty three miles per hour since the storm had subsided to an extent. 

          "So what?" she asked distractedly. 

          "Are you married, engaged?"

          She grimaced, "Neither."

          He found himself grinning evilly, "Knowing you, it's probably divorce."

          She shot him a murderous glare, "Don't illusion yourself into thinking you know me…and no, I am not divorced; never married."

          He leaned in, finding an odd feeling of soft of comfort in her voice, "Do you _want_ to marry?"

          "Hmm…this is part where I'm supposed to say…mind your _own_ business," she huffed. 

          The sight of her ruffled form brought a smile onto his face…alright, he wasn't _quite_ a sadist…

          Seeing the reserved look on her, he prodded, "Perhaps I should just leave you here…I could drop you off."

          Her eyes flickered and she raised her eyebrows in challenge, "You wouldn't _dare_."

          "I would too," he grinned boyishly, not realizing the gasp that elicited from her mouth at the sight of his smiling face. 

          "You'll just have to face the crowd of reporters the next day. They'll have huge headlines talking about a woman freezing to death," she whipped out a guilty look, "and how you left her that way." But she did not stop there, "And if I survived, I'd curse you till you hit your grave, Fanel."

          He gave her a benevolent smile that became a hoarse laugh. "Call me Van." 

          Tugging on her hoodie, the corners of her lips pulled upwards, until her eyes gave off a lambent glow the color of emeralds. 

~-~*~-~

          She stretched out like a lazy cat as they stepped out of the car. Van had driven into a hotel, where they decided they would check into separate rooms.  It was a quaint looking place, having a familiar look of hominess, much like the ginger-bread house out of illustrated children's books, especially so as it was under a blanket of luminescent white. 

          "It's pretty," she observed. They had somewhat relaxed, and it was a wonder how she had dug out so much information by not even saying much about herself. 

          He nodded in reply, getting anxious. "Looks like we'll be stuck here."

          She agreed with a murmur as they made their way to the door. Sweeping a glance he frowned; cars lined the parking lot. It was no wonder; the hotel/inn, coupled with its story-book looks and the frightening blizzard was becoming a popular spot.

          "Small town."

          "Yeah," she agreed, "I think this is only 'hotel' they even have; the town folks call it inns, I believe." He shook his head; he was anxious…he had to make a phone call home and his cell phone was dead. Damn.

          She yawned and trudged onto the front door which still had a merry Christmas wreath and the light glow from the rooms gave her a feeling of homesickness. _Home…_

          The bell gave a tingly chime as they entered the lobby which had comfortable, antiquated, country looking furniture. 

          "Nice," he murmured as they strolled up to the front desk, where a man with snowy masses of hair grinned at him cheerily.

          "Aaaah, lucky couple. Might I book a room for you two?"

          "_Two_ rooms," they said in unison.

          The man looked from one person to another and frowned, "There's only one room left," suddenly dismissing that important fact, he asked, "You two husband and wife? We don't allow singles male and female in one room." He puffed his chest proudly, "My grandfather ran this inn and we still carry our beliefs; it's our duty to the community," he snorted as he continued not noting their baffled faces, "don't have any young 'uns seeking a room together."

          So taken he was in explaining his strong values, he was oblivious to the panicked expressions and incredulity. 

          Raven hair came into his eyes as he snaked an arm around Hitomi's waist, which caused her to squirm slightly. "Let go of me, you jerk!" she whispered fiercely.

          He had a genuine look of exasperation, which was quiet easily possible to convey—because she was grounding his toes with the heel of her shoe. Gasping slightly as he tightened his hold, "As you can see," he spoke between grit teeth; "my wife and I haven't been getting along quite well these past few days," an unintentional stony expression on her face confirmed his alibi. 

          The man leaned in with a knowing smile, "Aye, aye. Becky, my Becky was a fierce one too. She had her moments," he grinned secretively, "I'll have them send up a little something," there was an impish twinkle in his kind blue eyes, "I discovered another place where my wife can let out her anger." He gave them a suggestive look that Hitomi had a most horrified feeling that, well, she was looking mortified _and_ horrified. "She's quite spent with her frustration when, uuh," the man at least had the grace to blush slightly, "we're done…if you follow my line."

          The dark haired man had an urge to laugh, his lips twitching, wanting to part and let out a sound of amusement. Instead, he leaned in and smiled appreciatively looking down at Hitomi, "I'll be sure to take that into consideration tonight," he said in a husky voice that made her tremor slightly. The way his face changed, the man was surely a chameleon!  

           Azure eyes shimmered as he beamed. "Yes, yes. You two take a seat there and your room will be ready in fifteen minutes."

          "Oh my God." She touched a palm to her cheek, feeling its intense heat. "That man…" she shook her head too embarrassed thus unable to continue.

          Van, however, was too busy shaking with violent throes of laughter and so she couldn't help but snap at him, "And _you_! You had to tell him we're married?! Are you crazy?!"  
  


          He quieted slightly though his words were shaky, "It was that o-or you'd be sleeping in the car…a cold car."

          She sniffed, "So much for chivalry; I think it was too much to hope that you'd maybe sleep in the car and I in the room." He stiffened slightly wishing—Nay, since when had chivalry appealed to him? He grinned slightly to himself; he was probably viewed as the black guard by the parents of the women he'd bed. 

          It was then he realized that she was prodding him. "Let go of me."

          "What?" his maroon eyes snapped in focus. 

          "You're still holding onto my waist." He extracted his arm away from her waist as if it was just stung by a mass of bees. 

          "Sorry," he mumbled, burying his hands in his coat pocket. 

          She gave him a dirty look and he swept his hand through his hair, "I'll be back." With a turn, he left for the phone booth that was in the corner.

          Hastily he dialed the number the phone ringing. "Hello?" a female voice answered, the smile evident in her tone.

          "Merle?" 

          "Van!" she cried, "Where are you?!! We were soo damn worried about you!"

          He gave a short laugh, "Oh I don't know, I am stuck here in this small little town. You are going to paaay when I get home, you know that, you minx?!" 

          She giggled into the phone, "Yes, yes. And I also won a bet!"

          "A bet?" he asked, his expression quizzical.

          "Yeah, Folken said that I'd marry before you would. I gained two hundred bucks on that one!"

          He snorted, "Don't get too carried away, lil' sis…you're not married y—" His speech halted as the sudden image of golden-brown hair flashed before his eyes and the female turned, revealing all the features of her face with her mass of shining hair. 

          …he forgot to breathe.

          What irked him was that she wasn't even beautiful, or one of those gorgeous, porcelain-delicate models he'd dated and had little flings with! There was something else that was powerfully attractive about her—

          "Van? You okay? Van!" the voice kept on worriedly and he snapped back from his reverie.  

          "Y-yeah, jeez Merle! My eardrums will burst!" 

          "Oh sorry," she said sheepishly. "You cut off there suddenly…something happened?"

          "No," he inhaled a ragged breath, "I'm fine; where were you?"

          "Yeah, we've postponed our wedding for a week. You'll make it by then, yes, brother?"

          "Yeah," he smiled into the phone, "Sure, you're not gonna get wedding jitters?"

          "Ha! You can keep on hoping. I won't lose the bet!"

          Grinning ridiculously, "I think Folken made that bet just so that you'd hurry up and get married," he was being mean, but it was simply _irresistible_. It was his sister after all. 

          "It feels great to be loved," she said dryly.

          "Hey hey, now, I was joking!"

          "I know," she laughed, "Or how would I've survived all through those torturous years?"

          "Well, that's not a mystery; you were a whiny, cry-baby."

          "_Van!!_" 

          He gave a snort and a laugh. "Alright, Merle," he saw the green eyed woman looking at him, "I've got to let you go."

          "Right," she muttered, "Some other woman you're after?"

          "N-no." 

          She laughed, "Oh Brother! I hope you find someone who'll teach you what it is to love."

          He snorted, "Don't get girly on me."

          She gave a care-free laugh, "Okay, okay, then; I can sense you don't want to talk to me anymore. Bye."

          "Bye." He hung up. Oh yes, his little sister was definitely growing up. Belatedly, he realized that he'd forgotten to ask who the lucky man was that had asked for her hand in marriage. 

          Walking back to Hitomi casually, he asked, "Can't live without your husband by your side?" 

          She whacked his arm, "You wish." She dangled the keys in her hands. "Let's go. I am soo tired."

          "Can't wait to collapse on the bed, huh?"

          "Y-yes," and then she halted at the sight of his dancing eyes, "You are perverted, Fanel."

          "Van," he corrected, he wrapped his arm around her waist and when she started to wiggle like a fish out of water, he whispered into her ear, "The old man is watching…tsk tsk…act like a decent wife for once."

          She fumed, "You just wait until we get in the room."

          He muffled his laughter, "Oooh, I am scared…but ready." He winked as he was barely inches away from her incredulous eyes adding with a husky, smoky tone, "I am ready to try anything you wish with you tonight, sweet."

          "You say that again, I might just unman you!"

          "Unman me?" he laughed, "How will you go about accomplishing that?"

          She shot him a sardonic look, "A certain place where the male anatomy exists will be very, very sore if you go any further."

          He threw his head and laughed, and oh God it felt so good to laugh. 

           God was seriously unhappy with her was her last thought before she began to climb the stairs leading them to their bedroom.

          Grinning down at her, his broody maroon eyes sparkling with an odd emotion, his face lit with an ethereal glow, he slowly, wrapped his arm around her back and together they went upstairs, and to observers they were the epitomical picture of a wonderfully happy couple. 

_~Don't forget to be kind to strangers. For some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it.~_

_~Hebrews 13:2_

**_A/N: *dreamy sigh and then coughs* Here it is…my sarcastic, little try at a romantic-comedy for Dariel's belated birthday present. ^_~ *hugs both teddies* ^____________________^ Haha, this is the edited version, _****_Dee_****_, so you if you print it, print this one. ^_^ Soooorry, I was soo bloody tired when I wrote that and I didn't have enough time to go back and edit. _**

**_Anywhoo, to all my other faithful readers, hope you've enjoyed this. :D I wanted to give Van another perspective. As for the length of this story, I have nooo idea. ^^;;  Ooh another thing, this was very, very vaguely inspired by Judith McNaught's "Perfect," but I don't think it'll be even a bit like that...XD, and plus the guy was a convict and he kidnapped her and they slept in different rooms. Haha, but the snowy thing came from none other than Dee...XD she was telling me about the lack of good looking guys in Italy...where I'll never go. *sniffs* _**

**_So, yes, next chapter will prolly come next week even though I think I might have it done this weekend. ^___~ Oh yes, click and review!!! MUAHAHA…or maybe I might just be tempted to delete this story…XD I dunno, not too confident about how I will do at comedy. *smiles sheepishly*_**

**Disclaimers: I don't own Escaflowne…but, *shakes head vigorously and winks at Ryuu Angel* but Van's all mine in my dreams. ^_______________^;;**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: Heady Wine or Warm Milk and Nightly Talks**

_~Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks~_

_-Samuel Johnson_

The knob turned and the wooden door creaked open rustically. He let the door loose, bending down in a gallant bow, a gesture more appropriately found in luxurious hotels, where men would bow and open the door. "Damsels first," he grinned roguishly and she swore that his eyes winked with devilry. 

She smiled nevertheless, pushed open the door, and did what any decent person would've done with an ounce of decorating style—gaped. A similar reaction was produced form the male behind her, whose eyes were about to pop out of his sockets.

          "Oh. My. God."

Red silk curtains shone so brightly that mildly blinding would be an understatement. However, what stood out even more was the huge, abnormally sized bed that was placed smack in the middle of the room, the obvious center show. What was so frighteningly, well, _hilarious_ were the linens. The comforter was a satiny, devilish red and the white pillows were edged with red embroidered cupids, geared with a bow and arrow. "Oh my God!" she repeated herself. Was this real?—she'd secretly pinched herself—twice!

"You can say that again," he exhaled, not sure to tear off his hair or to die laughing, especially when his eyes wandered over to the paper border. With restrained laughter, he regarded it carefully; the borders that were so brash and it took only mere seconds to register who they were picked for. Couples. It was illustrated a lot like a mathematical equation, artfully drawn by a dark red bed with a plus sign followed by two overlapping hearts, which equaled to a baby, bold italicized words over screaming "LOVE." Her eyes wandered over and he knew the acute moment when she registered the sight. 

He bit back a laugh, his lips twitching, and leaning forward, he whispered suggestively, "What do you say, damsel? Like it?" And Hitomi was dangerously sure he wasn't referring to the room. 

Her lips quivered at the sight before her, and her eyes were filling with tears, tears of mirth. She broke like a dam, squeals of laughter escaping her throat, the melody filling the air, weaving through him and just the sight of her laughing, had him doing that as well. "I've—" a giggle, "never," a hiccup, and a giggle, "seen such an," she clutched her stomach, "interesting work," she straightened her face, "of art." 

Between laughs and smiles, "Who'd ever thought that we'd agree on something like this?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and took a careful seat at the chair that had a velvet red chair, resting her back. His eyes followed her movement, and the shadow of a smile that was still present on her face and she was the picture of—

Her viriescent  eyes widened as she looked up at him, her mouth clearly agape, her eyelashes raised, almost adorably. "How _tall_ are you?"

Mockingly puffing his chest, he boasted, "Six feet two inches of pure male you're seeing here, Kanzaki."

The low ceiling emphasized his height and all the while she hadn't noticed how darn _huge_ this man was! He towered over her and Hitomi was no short chicken being around five feet nine inches. In high school, it had always been awkward, she'd felt gangly, out of place, sometimes being taller than the males in her class. This man before made her feel as if she was only five feet!—a babe. Her eyes widened at another inner realization.

"Right right," he raised one dark eyebrow closing the door with the gentle guidance of his leg, "you're either planning to murder me, or having dark fantasies," he teased, "And humor me by saying it's the latter."

"Former," she turned her head away, ignoring the slight pink that washed over her face. 

"Ouch," he placed his hand over his heart as if stabbed. 

Suddenly, with a whirl, she stood up to him, her eyes like flashing emeralds, warning him, "Fanel—this is serious now. You keep your," she fumbled for the right words, "body to yourself, and so will I." She swept a glance across the room, "You're sleeping on the floor."

He dropped his coat floor, "I am most definitely, _not_!"

"Yes, you are!"

His face descended, slowly, purposefully, and she realized he was mere inches away from her, "_Make_ me." The look in his eyes was not particularly intimidating—no-- it was for _that_ reason that she found them dangerous. They glittered with some strange emotion, some strange laughter that glimmered with devilry. The man was not a safe person to be with. Oh God, was she being tested!? It was as if she'd been thrown to the wolves! Why couldn't her Samaritan be a decent, moralistic, church-going, good-guy? He had to be this giant of a man, snotty, cocky, unattainable, too hot for his own go—

Oh no, she was not going to finish that thought. _No, no,_ she mentally shook her head. She was _definitely _not going to last if her mind got carried away, as it often did. Behind her façade of practicality, Hitomi Kanzaki, age twenty four, was a romantic at heart.

          Besides, he was _soo__… _irritating! Though his looks may seem out of romance novels, life, unfortunately was not and she'd learned it the hard way, her eyes being full of dreams when she was still in college, looking for her rescuer. She mentally smiled sardonically; yes, he could apply for the post for the cover of a romance novel but that would be only thing that was attractive about him or alike any of the males she'd read about ( the male, Drustan, from _The Kiss of the Highlander_ being her favorite.) There were times when she thought of how pathetic it seemed as she read by the candle light in her room, the wind blowing outside, making the branches of the trees softly brush her window, creating an ambience that  was perfect; haunting, peaceful, and so romantic. Was she going to wither away, become an old aunt reading on her bed, curled up with pages of longings and dreams written by some nameless woman…her eyes constantly searching for one of the dream men in reality? Oh yes, she was on the look out for her Knight in Shining Armor. 

 She snorted, and here he was, her reluctant, bad-boy Good Samaritan. When were her thoughts starting to sound paradoxical? Oh yes, since the moment she'd met him. She reminded herself, he wasn't going to magically become a knight in shining armor and rescue her from the evil dragon's clutches—yep, her mind definitely wandered. The only shining armor he possessed was the car he had been driving, she realized, biting back a smile. At least, the man had good taste; it was one of her favorite cars—a sleek, silver, Mitsubishi Gallant. An unexpected smile stole over her features; _now_, the word 'gallant' and the thought of Van in the same sentence seemed paradoxical.

"You will," she secretly hoped as she said it confidently.

He arched an eyebrow, "Really? So confident, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me _sweetheart_," she snapped as she pronounced the word in a sickening manner, getting up and going to the kitchen. 

"Well, then what would be to your liking?" he asked, following her and she mildly irked by that fact, hoping that their conversation had ended after her remark. He smirked. "_Sweat_heart?"

She stifled a giggle, but spoke in a mock serious note as she reached for a glass. "Coming close to getting unmanned here, Fanel."

His lips curled into a smirk, "Good, I don't think I've ever done _it_ in the kitchen."

Her lashes shot up to his face, oh yes, the arrogant man! She met his face that was smiling lazily. "How come you're so confident that I would change my mind?"

Bending down, he took the glass from her, taking her hand as well, running his thumb over the back of her hand in a circular motion that shot a dose of warmth  causing her to snatch it back; he only grinned. "Because of _that_, sweet." 

However, Hitomi wasn't fazed. "I didn't want to be touched by you…or any man." Standing up straight and tall, she imprisoned his auburn eyes, "I am immune to you."

He laughed, "So there is something about me that you have to be immune to?"  
  


She turned her back to him, "Well, I suppose there's a certain charm that some people might find attractive," his eyes widened slowly, was she complimenting him?, "like your sick sense of humor, but I am not one those feather-brained women you've bed."

He shoved a hand through his hair. Not in this lifetime. Why had he disillusioned himself?

"Oh how very nice of you. Thank-you. Must add that to my diary of compliments; unique, you are, Kanzaki."

She retorted with a smile, "No, no, I don't think I ever want to be even remembered by you," she pretended a shudder, "you'd probably haunt my dreams, give me nightmares."

"Aw…" he flashed his teeth, "do you know how _flattering_ you are?"

"I know…I am much _too_ kind."

He shook his disgustedly, "Women." Surveying his settings, the kitchen having a horrifying light pink wall paper with borders of white that had purple and pink hearts, he gave a snort. "What kind of room is this anyway?"

"If I am not wrong, it looks like we've got a bridal suite."

He nearly choked. "You're kidding!"

Her body shook with laughter and grabbing her shoulders, he turned her around…meeting the most magical sight.

She looked like a young school girl, her eyes twinkling in a way even emeralds couldn't, her soft hair falling to the sides, her curvy lips stretched…

He blinked twice, and she stopped in an abrupt giggle when his fingertip touched the corner of her lips. His face looked so serious, his dark falling in a casual disarray that could look good only on him. 

"Wh--?" she asked, her voice lowering to a whisper, and later she thought of why she even did that. For some unknown reason, the moment couldn't be spoiled with her talking in a higher note.

He gave her a smile unlike any of his and it was so damn attractive that her breath actually caught. Yes, this was the real Van she was witnessing; this was his real smile. "No, you just look happy."

Her eyes widened at his innocent comment, one that she hadn't expected, but a moment later she became the woman who was viewed as having her two feet on the ground…when all she wanted was to fly. Biting her lip, not trusting if a sarcastic comment would find its way out, she slowly, gently pushed his hands away. "Your hands…"

"Oh sorry," he said in an unapologetic manner. "I guess I'll jump into a shower, then…before you hog it." He smirked. "My sister used to do that; I'd get late for school just for that reason for countless times."

"Yeah, you do that." She admitted to herself; yes, she liked long showers and she needed one especially today. Plus, she needed a few moments alone, without the hovering company of this giant of a man. She snorted, a _giant bed for a giant man_ _which his body won't have the pleasure of touching, not if I can help it! _Yet, the thought of him as a young student brought a smile to her face. Oh she'd bet he'd been the heartthrob of the school. _Feh__,_ unlike her. Quite, quite unlike her. She looked back; he had gone and the closing of the door indicated it. However, the string of curses that were moments later shouted, it was confirmed. 

Going to the door, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"This bathroom has…purple carpets, and these pink towels!" he spoke in utter disgust.

She covered her mouth, her laughing mouth and went back to the kitchen. "You'll survive."

She was surprised to see that at the corner was her suitcase and his bag that was considerably lighter looking. _Ha!, that's one thing most men have in common. Light bags._ Her younger brother Mamoru, a complete charmer, was the same. He'd always complained about the things she'd take with her whenever she'd gone to an overnight party...or a field trip that involved staying in a hotel. For some reason, she always wanted to feel home, some part of home and thus she carried all the frames of pictures, but this time she'd only chosen two; one of the whole family—her mother, father, younger brother and herself, the other with her waving into the camera with her betrothed—nay, a friend. He was a friend...so far.

Hitomi Kanzaki, if she had an ounce of sense would've accepted his offer that he'd so romantically proposed. A dinner in fancy restaurant, chandeliers glittering at ever corner, candle light, light background music—the whole works. And he'd bought her this _enormous_ looking diamond ring that would have women fawning. And yet, Hitomi Kanzaki, one of the most romantic of hearts, was thinking of how she'd have liked it if he'd bent down on his knees. There was nothing more attractive than a man on his knees. She shook her head sadly; in her place, many women would die and feel lucky. 

And that was the point; the whole dilemma. 

She didn't want to feel lucky, like he was a gift of humanity with his very existence; like he was some unattainable man who she could never look in the eye with equality. But he was. That's why she wanted to think this over. A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered his face when she'd faltered, speechless, which he'd taken as a sign of acceptance and when he'd kissed her cheek, running his hand down her bare arms, she'd put a stop to that. She'd told him clear enough, but he was Allen, and Allen did not accept _no_ as an answer. And so, here she was. He'd forced her to go and think over it and decided what was best was a change of scenery, some fresh air. Secretly, she'd even hoped that he'd come with her. But, no, work was more important; meetings were more important and societal functions were most essential. 

She sighed as she opened her bag, taking out pale green pajamas. It wasn't as if she had asked him to come with her for days, just one day. That's all she wanted; she wanted to feel his love. He always told her that he was a different kind of man, he displayed his love in a manner that was not like the others and that kissing publicly and affectionately was not a thing he liked to do. Not that she wanted him to kiss her publicly; she was still a bit shy with that, but the romantic in her craved handholding, soft smiles and burning gazes. None of those he fulfilled.

Sometimes, she even wondered _why_ he wanted to marry her. Allen was just five years older than her, twenty nine, and yet he distinctly reminded her of her father sometimes...and even her father wasn't _that_ bad. Allen had made it his personal goal to pull a _My Fair Lady_ on her, always correcting her every movement and there were times when she wanted to stomp her feet like a little five year old and yell at him till she was hoarse. Just the thought of it gave her an almost euphoric feeling. But the sight of him could throw water on all the fire she possessed though there were moments when a kindle was lit though as always, it had disastrous effects and they'd ended up bickering and arguing. Mind you, not the kind of bickering that was considered cute with couples. __

_          ...don't be so open; men will take advantage of that. _

_...don't wear men's wear; jeans are for men, skirts are much more feminine, more appealing to the senses._

_...smile a little more demurely, my pet._

She grit her teeth. She absolutely _hated_ that word! Pet. Pet, indeed, like she was some lost puppy that needed his guidance! She could even bear to be called _sweetheart_ from Van and compared to pet, Van's was a gentle caress. 

But then her eyes softened ever so slightly. _Maybe I'm expecting too much of him. Gyah, it's probably unhealthy for you to read romance novels in which guys are just so wonderful. What's a girl to do when this reality is absolutely filled with people like him? _Yet, she feared, if she said no to him, she'd probably never marry. _You can grow old with your books; too bad that the characters will remain as hot as ever and you'll be all wrinkly and wilting away like some flower._

Placing it carelessly on the bed, she started removing all her clothes and placing them in hangers, in drawers... How she wanted to just collapse on the bed and sleep the day off! The bad that had looked almost monstrous looked like something from heaven now.

~*~*~

Opening the refrigerator, she reached for the container of milk, but her eyes wandered over the rest of the contents in the fridge and a slow, steady, crimson mat of color painted her features. Stocked innocently was _Hershey's Chocolate Syrup_, straw-berries, whipping cream— And she tried to tell herself that it was just in her head, that the old man had nothing to do with things that err, made her think of other things. She could only imagine the mortification of Allen if he'd heard her wandering thoughts; if he was dead, he'd turn in his grave. Dark fantasies, indeed. 

She shut the door, also shutting her thoughts close. Pouring milk into the kettle, she waited as it heated up slowly. The moments passed, and she found herself tapping the floor, rubbing her arms.

...had a sudden chill suddenly come over?

The kitchen was relatively weakly lit as she poured the milk into a mug. Tasting it, she realized, she needed sugar. Sugar, sugar... She looked in the cupboards, only dimly aware that a door had opened. 

Finally, her eyes spied a box of what looked like _Equal_ sugar. _Aha! Gotcha!_ She reached for the box, on her tippy toes, wondering why in God's name someone would put it on the highest shelf. Nudging it, it was only moments when the box fell, and unfortunately the contents did as well. A helpless, reflexive squeal erupted from her throat. Unfortunately, that brought about a certain worried male, ready to defend her—

"What happened? Are you alright?" she was on the floor, her eyes widening in pure horror at the sight of what was surrounding her. 

"Y-yes." Her fingers were trembling as she delicately reached for the packages that were pink in color and the mortification on her face couldn't be captured by any artist. The slip of pink, had in fancy writing which was in purple the words, _Pretty in Pink_. 

And they were not packages of sugar.

They were condoms. Everywhere. That _had_ to go on the top lists for the most embarrassing moments in her entire life.

She was speechless as he reached out for a package and when he read the label, a slow smile started curling on his lips and then his shoulders shook. She watched the transformations on his face, the sparkling wine colored eyes that were shining like two jewels with tears of mirth. 

He collapsed on the floor and a throaty, deep laugh erupted from his like hot spurts of a volcano. "_Oh God, Hitomi..._"

She couldn't help it as they gathered all the packets together, shoving it in the box. She'd never laughed even a tenth of as much as she's laughed with him in just one day. Allen would have probably shaken his head and told her to be more graceful and not rush over things. The mere thought of Allen had a sobering effect on her. 

"I think this is the stuff that I can blackmail you with."

"That's what I was afraid," she retorted dryly. "But I am sure the women will be shocked at you putting away, uh, these things with me."

He shook his head and admitted, "Must say, you always get me in the most unique of positions."

She quirked a smile, "Thank-you." He reached for her head and she immediately pulled back, causing a condom to fall off. "Oh uh..." 

He only grinned. "Want to put any to use?"

That comment, however resulted in her whacking him with one packet square on the cheek. Needless to say, the answer needed no words.

That was also when she noticed, his chest was bare. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. His muscles were lean, in excellent shape, and he was broad, but not too broad that it was almost gross. Perfect. Just how a man should be; his smooth skin was the color of caramel chocolate that she liked so much, his nipples dark. She blushed, _oh yes, definitely a place you should not be looking_. But the harm was already done and she couldn't help but notice his fine abdomen that was firm and waving gently, his waist tapering off into narrow hips. She wondered, with some mild interest, what Allen looked like. Was he as fine as him?

Too late, she realized, she had been staring quite blatantly. "Had a good look?" He arched an eyebrow.

She wrinkled her nose; oh God!, two embarrassing moments in a row! That had to be a record! However, she stiffened, adopting a prim note, "Maybe you're used to walking or sleeping about half-naked, but I won't have any of that. I am not—"

"Fully naked, you mean."

"...huh?"

He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked when she was confused or when he interrupted her in one of her conversations, "I am used to sleeping naked," his eyes danced at the sight of her parted lips, "even when I sleep alone, sweetheart." 

_Stop, 'Tomi! You're not even going there...no, no, no!!_ She wouldn't even _think_ of him naked! She would've hugged him if she could when he changed the topic, however, "Are you cold?" He'd seen her shudder and rub her arms. 

She smiled weakly, "Yes, a bit." Raising her eyebrows, she added with some faint traces of amusement. "And you're not?"

He gave a small laugh, "You know what they say..." he looked at her suggestively.

"What?"

"The best way to fight off the cold is to jump under the covers naked. Nothing like body heat." She reddened, and did what her instinct dictated; she shoved him and jumped up, leaving the kitchen. 

Turning around, looking at his boyish, laughing face, she hmphed, "I'd rather bury myself in six feet of snow!"

He shook his head, amusement still not departing, "I'm not _that_ bad, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Grumpy?"

"No!"

"Oh, how about," he was thoughtful for a moment, but his eyes were swimming in laughter, "uh, Spinster?"

"_No!_"

"Then, I think sweetheart would just do." He leaned across the cabinets, his hands going behind his back, his eyes ever-watching. It was moments like these when she felt terribly self-conscious. 

She shook her head, like giving up with a child who couldn't reason. "While you decide what to call me, I'll go and have a hot shower."

"I wouldn't mind showering again," he laughed at her expression. 

"Why, you—"

"Hey, lady, you're the one who took it in the wrong way!!!" He slithered away as a shoe just grazed his thigh. 

As she closed the door to the bathroom, a careless smile was on her face. 

...when had she smiled for no reason with Allen? Never. Unexplainable laughter or smiles irritated Allen. 

*~*~*

Sighing contently, she dried the last portions of her hair with the blow dryer. Deftly, she combed all of her hair back, brushed her teeth and took hold of her dirty laundry. 

She stepped out of the bathroom, instantly hit with a wave of cool temperatures. She shivered as she padded on the carpet, the room unnaturally quiet. She'd always liked noise, the bustle, but Allen had always desired more of a quiet life, a secluded life with just the two of them. Had he ever asked what she'd wanted? No, she shrugged; _I suppose he assumed I didn't mind. _But, heck yes! She minded! She liked family, close family members, a huge family--the whole works! Coming from a family of just four, and having only one aunt, both sets of grandparents dying before her birth, she craved a home. A home of her own that only Allen was offering. 

She shoved her laundry in a paper bag and placed it in the corner and when she strode towards the bed, she gaped. 

He was in the bed. God bless her, but she was staring! He looked every inch the male he'd proclaimed of being, his golden skin contrasting almost wonderfully with the red of the comforter, his hair dark and mysterious and his eyelashes looking almost childish as they rested upon his cheeks. He was asleep.

She cursed herself, so in awe, as she moved closer to him, halting only when she hovered over him. She couldn't explain why she was so drawn to him, why she found herself bending down---

"BOOOOOOO!!!!!" He raised his head, immediately bumping into her nose, and she pulled back.

"What the hell was that for?!" she clutched her nose that was painfully red, most likely. 

His eyes widened and he asked curiously, "Were you going to do a Snow White scene...except opposite; the woman kisses the man."

Her eyes also grew to realize what it may have implied but she quickly covered it, "Don't flatter yourself, Fanel. I was wondering if I could pull you out of bed with your hair."

"Violent you are, Kanzaki."

"_Very_," she said irritably. "Anyway, move over to the floor. I am not sharing a bed with you."

He parted the covers and moved a little to the side, "Who said I am moving?"

"Fanel, I am serious! It's eight o' clock, and I am dead tired. Too tired to fight you. We'll continue this in the morning."

He smiled lazily, "Didn't your mother ever teach you to share? Not be selfish?"

She laughed humorlessly, "She'd kill me if she knew what position I was in right now!"  
  


He shrugged, "Your choice."

He wrapped her arms around herself. This man was driving her _insane_! "Fine," she mouthed. "But you change into a shirt." For some reason, she thought it was very, very unsafe to have him shirtless. 

He raised a sardonic eyebrow, "What's wrong with me like this? You're going to be on the other side of the bed, then no problems."

She sputtered, her face turning a pale shade of pink, "Just change, will you! It's a compromise!"  
  


Grinning in that irritating manner, he jumped up and left to grab a shirt. "As you say, my damsel."

She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her galloping heartbeat. Talking to him was like a work-out, as if she running, all the adrenaline pumping into her veins.

Shaking her head, she went on the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers, making sure her shirt was buttoned properly and her body was covered. 

He switched off the light as she pretended to sleep and he quietly got under the covers beside her. The instant he hit the bed, she felt his radiating warmth. In a soft, husky voice, he spoke, "I know you're not asleep yet, my damsel." 

She opened one eye, "How very perceptive of you."

She knew he was grinning in the dark, "Why thank-you. My mother always said the same."

Her back faced her and he was mildly irritated by the fact; he liked to see the person face to face when he talked. But this was Hitomi and Hitomi was not just any woman; she was a class of her own. The woman was an interesting mixture, of what he wasn't quite sure. She was like heady wine…or warm milk? He wasn't quite sure, but he hoped it was the latter. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was get involved with her, no matter how interesting she seemed, how _fresh_ she seemed. 

But he had to admit; it was quickly becoming almost a _passionate_ hobby to tease her. She was just so…teaseable! 

He saw her rub her arms as she tried to go deeper into the warmth of the bed and covers. He inched closer to her ever so slowly, until his hot breath could be felt on her neck. However, Hitomi wasn't quite sure how far he was and when she turned to face him and tell him to back off, her body bumped into his.

There was silence as their breaths mingled and each stared at the other. Softly she spoke, as if afraid to break some sacred pact, "Don't come so close."

Deliberately, he did the opposite, closing the distance between her, his eyes never leaving hers, "You're cold. It'll only help."

Slowly, like an awkward boy, he weaved his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She didn't resist though a distant part of her mind yelled at her, cursed her weakness. Her pliant body collided with his and he pressed it oh so gently, like one would tenderly embrace a baby. "Warm?" he whispered in her ear, arousing an involuntary shudder

She only nodded. They stayed in that position for a few moments, she being very much deeply aware of his presence and finding a kind of solace she hadn't expected to find any person's arms. 

…was she betraying Allen?

An unexpected smile curved her lips, "Am I squeezing the breath out of you?" 

Hell yes! Not squeezing but he found himself breathing shallowly, "No." Just the slight pressure of her on his body was making him feel hot, his body betraying him every second he felt her soft curves. 

"Funny, Allen always said that I squeezed the breath out of him."

"Allen?" he prodded, his brows knitting.

"Yes," she admitted, "He wants me to marry him."

 "And…?"

"I don't." There! She had said it! She'd admitted it!

"Why?" he didn't realize his hold tightening on her waist.

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, "Just things…he always watches over me like some father-figure." She wrinkled her nose, imitating his voice, "_Hitomi__, Cinnamon and Apple crepes are bad for you; they have too much fat and you don't need that._ Or, _that dress is too unflattering! Don't act so childish!_"

He snorted; fat? That man sure knew how to speak to ladies. "You like Cinnamon and Apple crepes?"

She admitted sheepishly, "A weakness."

There was laughter in his voice as he whispered, "We can be weak together, sweetheart. I love those myself." 

"Good taste, Van."

"I know," he boasted. 

She snorted, "Too bad the crepes don't show on you."

"Oh and do they show on you?" 

"Of-course!!" she spoke as if almost outraged. "Have you seen me?"

"If that's what the crepes do…then more women will be trying them out."

Her eyes widened and she accidentally touched his hips, "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" he asked disbelievingly.

Her voice came out slow and cool, "Don't lie to me; do anything but lie. Allen used to take me to work out whenever we ate in a restaurant; a bit hurtful for my ego but I accepted that."

_What?!_ The man actually dared to do that! The sound of her voice was sincere and he had a horrible feeling that she was telling the truth. "So, sweetheart, you think you're," he choked on the following word, "_fat?_" Was this a female epidemic? 

She blushed, _wonderful things you talk about Hitomi._ "Allen always well…he always wanted me to drop a few sizes."

"What size are you?!"

The answer came out so fast, so unexpected because she knew if she was a bit sane, she would never have told him her size. "Eight."

There was silence and the only thing that was audible was their breaths.

"You're beautiful."

"_What_?" she whispered explosively. "Don't lie to me."

"Alright," he gulped. She could almost hear it in her mind, him formulating an answer that was more appropriate, _You're__ a very healthy young woman—_

"You're _very, very_ beautiful." 

She gasped inaudibly. Allen had never called her beautiful…

And she was…in his eyes. There was a gentle kind of fire in her that he rarely found, that gamin grin that made his heart skip a beat every time, a sizzling attraction that he couldn't explain. And never had he found a woman more enchanting, more plucky…more _her_. He couldn't explain the vortex of feelings swirling in his mind. She was so very real, so womanly! He had previously slept, dated, with women who were of an extremely petite size and not until he'd seen her, he realized that this was the type of woman his mother would approve of; this was the type of woman he needed but did not want in his life. Hell, he wanted to just bend down and kiss her especially when she looked so damn adorable in the kitchen today, he wanted her. And that was why he couldn't hurt her. She was a woman you married, kept at your side, had a dozen children with. Not a one-night stand. Definitely not.

She was very quiet but the response he received from her had him shuddering and his heartbeat thundering, ready to burst out of his ribcage. Hesitantly, her hands ran over his body, and he was sure she didn't realize the kind of things she evoked in him, the kind of thoughts she evoked for she wouldn't be doing this. Her arm curved around his waist, the flatness of her hand pressing across his back. 

"Good night, Van."

If he couldn't kiss her, he could at least steal a caress that would hopefully go unnoticed by her. He bent his head down and lightly brushed his lips over the top of her head, noticing how enticingly silky her hair was… What would it feel like, running his fingers across that mass of hair…her hair all over his body…her lips--

Something he shouldn't be thinking about, he reminded himself severely. Besides, she wasn't his type of woman… No, no, definitely not!

But the reminder of saucy Hitomi didn't leave him when she spoke, "Don't try anything funny."

He grinned, resuming his light hearted aura, "I like my women willing, sweetheart. Besides, too afraid of your Allen guy," he teased.

She snorted. "Yeah, you should be. He'll remind you of your father."

Unexpectedly, he brought her even closer, and a squeal erupted from her lips when he hugged her tightly. When she opened her mouth to protest, he spoke interrupting her, "I think I am feeling very, very cold." His eyes were glinting, "And since you don't want to get naked with me, I think this is the best I can do."

She harrumphed, "Fanel, no wandering hands!"

He laughed, "Go to sleep, sweetheart." Brushing her hair with his lips again, he spoke softly, almost tenderly, "Sleep with the angels." His grip tightened and he inhaled her sweet scent. Beautiful indeed…

_~Let your arms enfold us_

_Through the dark of night_

_Will your angels hold us_

_Till we see the light~_

--"Prayer," Secret Garden

**A/N: Ooookkaaay, you guys. Writing this took bloody long, but I have to admit, it was sooo much fun!! I am totally, helplessly, in love with him..and XD, if you think he's a pervert…well, he's not _exactly_. ^_^;; It's more of a he likes to tease her that way because she just seems so prim and he always gets a reaction from her. Haha! Now that you've read about 14 pages of writing Verdana 10pt it would be shaaaame if you didn't review it. ^____________^;; And it would be a shaaame if you didn't review to say you liked it or not.. ^_~ Or if you want something changed, something to be different…give your opinion folks, this took a looot of thought. :D Also, *hugs both teddies madly* special thanks to Ryuu Angel for letting me use the lyrics to Prayer…XD. ^_______________________^ What else can I say? Och, I have a test waiting to be studied for…and I am in denial that I didn't do well in the math test…*thinks* Oh yes, READ "Kiss of the Highlander" by Karen Marie Moning…OMG!!! Never, in my ENTIRE life have I read such a bloody, funny book!! And *drools* Drustan is mineee!! *snatches him away* Yeah, some jokes are inside jokes, sowwwy, but I did say it was a personalized story. ^_~ Oh yes, the bed room was inspired by "Perfect" hehehehe, but descriptions of it were different in that book…it had purple comforters and this heart thing. You'll see…read that book too!!!**

**Umm…I think that about sums it up. Now, must go and read "Lord of the Flies." Bloody English test tomorrow. Big hug to all the reviewers!! Thank-you!!!!!!!!! R&R!!! Long reviews/rants welcome…^_~ **


	3. Chapter Three

**NOTICE: Do "Select All" and paste it onto a Microsoft Word... The formatting is a bit messed up and you have to do horizontal scroll, so paste it on and then read. Trust me, you don't want to scroll horizontally...it's annoying and takes the enjoyment away! **

**Chapter Three: Virgins and Mewling Monsters **

~_A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.~_

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

_          Warm, so warm_, were the three words that drifted across her sleeping mind. She buried her head even deeper, one leg intertwined with his, the other leg's thighs trapped between his two, her toes tickling his foot as they gently rubbed against it.

          He caressed the soft flesh, running a hand over her yielding, smooth, strong calf muscles, tenderly chafing his thumb over it. "Mmm…" she moaned in her sleep, digging even deeper into him, almost instinctively. The precise moment her lips touched the base of his throat, enigmatic rust, maroon colored eyes sprung open as if shocked, his mouth slightly parted in a soft gasp.

          And the sight before him made him ache so keenly, made him think of so many things that he had absolutely no business of reflecting on.

          She was sprawled half on top of him, her arms all over him, her legs caressing parts of his without realizing. And by God, he should be shot if he took advantage of her openness, of her response to him, but Van Fanel found that very moment very, very tempting. Even more so than Apple and Cinnamon crepes.

          This was the first morning he'd awoken before an enchanting woman that was not his lover. 

_          What to do? What to do?_ There was a dull ache in his mind as it hammered that question on. There would be no crime in enjoying this, he told himself. He could just remain in that blissful position, with all her enticing curves softly molding on top of his body, or…

          Slowly, very carefully, he untangled her hand from his waist, somehow finding that gesture highly odd when he'd done it countless times with other women. Aha! But there was a difference now. He didn't want to. It nearly sapped all his strength to move her soft skin away as he did meticulously, until she was on the bed and not on his body. Her one leg was cradled between his thighs and the heat that shot up to his lower body was intense. _You're a bastard, Van. Get the hell away from her!!_ He lifted his leg, fumbled for a moment and set it away, far away. Next, he inched his other leg that was below hers until it rested just beside the other woman. When he breathed a sigh of relief and he whipped away from her, he found himself facing her. 

          Her hair had spilled across the pillows and in the little puny sunbeams that managed to grace their bed, she was the picture of what a goddess wished to look like. Her hair shone almost like dark, rich, gold, her face being grazed, caressed by the sunlight, giving it an ethereal, angelic glow. She was truly beautiful in her sleep and there was some semblance of her child-like innocence that glimmered. Until then, Van Fanel, had never thought of how potently attractive it looked. The women he bed knew how to pleasure men, and how to receive pleasure. His bed was no place for child-play or naiveté.

          He dragged in a shuddering breath as he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, covered by the ample bulk of the blanket. Her sleeping form was humbling; it made him feel like some lecherous man, some wicked dragon that had no right to breathe fire on such a damsel as pure as snow. Letting his hand wander under the covers, he found the hem of her pajamas and tugged it downwards to cover her legs. During sleep, they had ridden up to her knees.

          Next, he straightened the comforters, covering her toes that he found were cool to the touch. He shook his head with an almost smile; how cold did his little damsel get? But the next dangerous question he asked himself had him frowning darkly, _And__ how much of me would it take to keep you warm?_

          He was going to offer none of himself to her. Even if she wanted it, which he grinned grudgingly, she probably didn't if he kept acting in a way that made her fantasize of how she would murder him. But her response in bed was encouraging, very encouraging.

_          Encouragement that you'll just have to ignore_, he reminded himself as he groaned and cautiously stepped out of the bed.

          The carpet was cold. He was _so_ tempted to just run back and jump beside her, pulling her close to him so that he could crush her body to him, and revel in her warmth. 

          He shook his head. He was really a bastard.

~*~

          Tediously, her lashes fluttered like the tentative flight of a moth as she opened her eyes to the streams of sunshine in the room. 

          Her eyes were like slits in the sunlight as she propped up her hands on the flat mattress--

          "G'morning, sunshine!" the light, pleasant tenor greeted.

          --only to plop back into the pillows, inwardly groaning. "Go away, Satan!"  
  
  


          He buttoned the last few buttons on his crisp, blue shirt and a grin stole over his features, "Sorry, sweetheart, your boy-friend's not around. He's missed your, err, _hotness_ and gone to hell for a recharge."

          She couldn't help it. She was baited fish. She knew it as sure as the unwelcome smile crept up and the low, gurgle of a giggle came from her throat. But, that however, did not stop her from aiming a pillow at him.

          Being miserably helpless at sports, she was surprised when her aim hit her target in the stomach. "Ouch!" he doubled over in mock pain and then grinned like a lad as he threw it back on her, which promptly landed exactly where he wanted it to. On her face.

          She bunched the pillow in her fingers and then turned her face and used the pillow to cover her head. "Oh c'mon, wake up! Admit it; you can't have a better wake-up call person than me?" 

          She lifted her head to retort when she gasped. Swiftly, he wrenched the covers away and her hands automatically, reflexive went around her chest. 

          He only raised her eyebrows as she sputtered. "W-what did you do that for?"

          "You can stop that, sweetheart." Her arms slackened slightly,  "You're not naked." And she couldn't explain why she felt that way. For God's sake, almost every inch of her flesh was covered! 

          Yet she felt bare.

          She huffed, "You're really a Satan."

          He gave a short laugh, "At least it gives me the miraculous ability to warm you. Maybe the fires of hell dwell in me," he winked at her incredulous expression.

          "_What?_" Her eyes were rounded.

          "Fires of hell dwell in me—"

          "No, no, before that!" she said as she jumped off the bed as if being scorched herself by the fires of hell that he boasted about, her expression intense.

          "I have a miraculous ability to warm you," his grin only widened.

          Her brows knitted together in a frown, "...how? When?"

          He barked a laugh and his eyes were almost smoldering, so dangerous they were, "Would you like me to _show_ you _how_? As for when, I think anytime is a good time." he spoke huskily, a quality of voice that sent shivers running like mad little critters up and down her spine.

          She edged away from him, "No, thank-you!" God, she tried to rack her brain from remembering. She was vaguely aware of little sensations, burning little sensations, like fireworks—

          _Oh. My. God! You've got to be the biggest two-legged fool! What the hell did you do last night?_ He could see her expression darkening, her worry that was expertly hidden.

          "...nothing happened."

          "Wha-?"

          He gave a small smile that could be considered as innocent, "I didn't touch you anywhere objectionable." He made the statement calm, not even a flicker of emotion in the tenor of his voice. Of-course, he wasn't going to bend down to lying... He _had_ touched her. 

          There was an instantaneous spray of a blush on her cheeks, _God, Hitomi, you must absolutely earn a Ph.D. in the art of embarrassment! They won't even have to test you! One look at you and they'll be handing you the accursed diploma..._

          He snapped her out of her thoughts, "You'll be taking breakfast downstairs with me, then?"

          She nodded mutely. 

          He gave a lazy grin, "The shower's yours."

          She harrumphed, casting him a wary look and went to her suitcase to remove the miscenellaneous things. 

          He only shoved his hands deep in his pockets and whistled lowly to himself, looking out at nature's magnificence, but his eyes being far away.

~*~

          The setting of the eating area was decidedly _cozy_. A cheerful fire crackled and couples sat at tables, talking, smiling, doing what any normal couple would do. But Hitomi and Van were not couples sanctioned and bound by holy matrimony. And they were definitely not average. 

           They bickered about the most senseless things. Seasons. Hitomi loved summer, the heat, the rain-showers, the rainbows that sprouted unexpectedly. Van loved the crisp chill, the blowing of the wind fiercely against the trees, the barren, clean look of land. 

          "Hmph! It fits your personality. Cold and...incorrigible!" she said exasperatedly as she plopped down on the seat which Van had instinctively pulled for her, a gesture that she missed and didn't notice. 

          He gave a strangled cough that made several people look in their direction, only to smile, "Incorrigible, maybe. But really, _I _don't think I am," he looked deliberately at her face, his eyes resting a second too long on her lips that were a tantalizing color of pink, "cold."

          She averted her gaze, looking down at the suddenly, _very_ interesting color of the napkins. 

          He gave a lazy grin as he observed her silently. She's pulled on a dark blue sweater over her French cuffed white shirt, accompanied by casual slacks. His grin widened. "Look," he observed and pinched his shirt, "we match." Indeed they did, His shirt and her sweater were of the same color. 

          She shook her head and said dryly, "What I solely live for, to match with you."

          His stomach grumbled loudly and a reluctant smile curved over her lips, "The best way to kill a man is through the stomach."

          She gave an unintentional laugh, "And all these years I though the shortest route to a man's heart was through the stomach."

          His lips quirked beautifully into a smile, "There are many, many _other_ things men hunger for than food, sweetheart."

          "Like?" she shot back, not grasping the motive in his mind.

          All too quickly, he reached over and tweaked her nose. "Like Cinnamon and Apple crepes." _Like your lips, your hair, your hands, your legs..._  
  
  


          She wrinkled her nose all the while rubbing it. "I thought you said it wasn't food."

          He laughed, "Well, my mother never considered such delicacies _food_. I guess more appropriately, you can call it, dessert." _Something too delicious that you would want to relish each bit slowly, just like you..._

          A man beamed, the strains of stress although visible, as he came over to their table, "May I help you two?"  
  
  


          Hitomi grinned up at the young harassed looking man, "Yes, please." She hastily looked down at the menu and was just about to say something when the dark haired man interrupted.

          "Apple and Cinnamon crepes, please."

          "And you, Miz?"

          His eyes were glimmering with hints of laughter, "I think she'll take the same," he answered for her. The waiter was too busy scribbling to notice the frown on the 'Miz's' face. 

          "Very well. Anything to drink?"

          "Coffee," she said firmly, her fingers drawing patterns on the napkin.

          "Same." He drummed his fingers on the table to some silent tune that he only heard.

          The man did a quick bow and hastily scuttled away with their orders.

          "You _had_ to do that!" she hissed.

          "What's wrong if our tastes match?" he leaned in, giving the image of them having a very intimate conversation, "and plus, you know you wanted it." He winked.    

          "Still," she huffed, "you didn't have to order it!"

          "I said that I didn't like being weak alone."

          She shook her head and just the sheer hilarity of the situation hit her. She was complaining because he'd ordered the same thing, a harmless event really, maybe even flattering. She giggled, "I bet you were always getting cavities when you were young."

          He feigned offense and he bared his even, flashing, white teeth in a way that distinctly reminded her of chimps that she'd seen on the _Discovery_ channel. It bubbled behind her surface and she couldn't help but release the laugh. "These magnificent gems are not the product of the tooth fairy." 

          Her eyes sparkled and they resembled leaves sprayed with glistening water fresh after a rain shower and he stretched back and just watched her, quietly. The way her hair brushed her shoulders, the changing shape of her lips, and the little sprinkle of freckles just barely noticeable, only if you were really, very close...

          "...has Allen ever touched you?" The question came so unexpectedly, so suddenly, and between her mirth, that when she stopped to register it, she hiccupped. But she wasn't the only one surprised. He couldn't explain how or why he wanted to know so badly if she'd been touched by Allen, or he realized, any man.

          She eyed him apprehensively and immediately stiffened, "That's really quite personal." She was however, betrayed when his prodding eyes never left her face and she blushed, a pilgrim's blush. 

          He leaned in and whispered, his voice so silky that it was an almost caress and she could feel him _touching_ her. "He hasn't touched you, sweetheart. Right?"

          And knowing a thing or two about women, he could tell the difference between the flush of a woman not often touched and that of a woman being coy. 

          She didn't even confront his eyes because she knew what would happen. Her soul would be so terribly bare and exposed. He could read her like a novel.

          Apparently he was also the master of knowing her all too well, to not even have to look into her eyes and know the truth. 

          And his eyes enlarged at the realization.

          "By God, no you can't be a—a--_virgin_!" He said the word as if it was a foreign and he wasn't quite sure of its pronunciation.  

          Her head shot up and clearly met his eyes. Even sitting, she was proud, the thrust of her chin, the fierce look in her eyes indicated that she was no weakling. Nay, she was a firebrand, a woman born of fire and fight.

          Forcing a dry smile she spoke derisively, "What lovely conversation topics we have."

             He'd found exactly what he'd needed to know. He grinned lazily but behind his cool, rather, hot surface, little alarm bells were ringing deafeningly. What he realized too late was the acute sense of want, of possessiveness he felt when he'd found out. _Damn! It would've been better if you hadn't known... what the hell made you ask her that?!_

          And now, he knew.

          He would have her, if anyone would. He would be her first even though he may be damned. She hadn't been quite so wrong when she'd made the analogy of him being in likeness to Satan.

          How, why, or when, he wasn't confident of. 

          But there were certain things that one _knew_ and Van Fanel knew just that. 
    
                   If she had the nerve to kiss the waiter, Hitomi Kanzaki would've done so when the man placed the food on the table and in that precious time an odd sort of
    
    ease had grown between the two. They glided through one topic after another,
    
    taking bites of their delicious crepes. It wasn't until he hit a sore subject
    
    did the barriers, the defenses spring up as if magically. Allen.
    
                "How did you even get involved with this guy?" He asked in that calm, matter of fact manner that she found utterly treacherous because it was in this way he managed to extract all the details of her life. Satan? Oh yes!
    
                She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and yet his eyes remained steadily on her and when she looked into them, she knew they were her undoing. They held no judgement, no harshness,just that calm, blazing fire whose intensity could be scorching.
    
                "Well," she sipped her scalding coffee and wrung her hands for a few moments and then paused. A gaping pause.
    
                "Well...?" he prompted softly.
    
                She inhaled deeply, "Allen and I met under odd circumstances." Her eyes softened slightly as she went along, obviously encouraged by him, "Mamoru, my little brother, was a bit of a hacker a few years ago and he had cracked into the Schezar database," her face darkened and Van found himself so engrossed by the changing expressions on her face that he thought he could just keep on watching her, "Well, this one wasn't so successful. They were able to trace him down and it was that time actually Mamoru got very ill." She looked at him, and yet he knew that her eyes weren't _on_ him. They were miles, and miles away, reliving that very instant. "I went in his place to see what consequences he'd have to face." She gave a short laugh, "And apparently, Allen found a reason to forgive Mamoru just this once. Only one bet." Her eyes riveted to his face and they were serious with hints of sardonic humor, "He wanted me to have dinner with him."
    
                "Bastard," he muttered darkly.
    
                Hitomi frowned, faintly amused by his reaction and the darkening of his face made her want to smile. She did. "Well," she sighed, "one thing led to another and, here I am."
    
                "How very romantic. And so the prince and the princess lived happily ever after," he said sarcastically.
    
                She gave a bubbly laugh, "I didn't know you cared for romance."
    
                He bestowed a languid grin and his hand found hers as he made circular patterns. "Sweetheart, life is a big romance in which you have to fall in love with."
    
                A slow, small, graced her features as their eyes held for the next few moments.
    
                Sometimes, the fairy tales that we craved for were just an arm length away, but we, blind princess, failed to see them.
    
    ~*~
    
                He was frowning. What the hell did he get himself stuck in? He couldn't believe it! He'd pinched himself secretly for about the fifth time! 
    
                Here he was, cleaning tables. 
    
                It had started out innocent enough, very innocently. Hitomi, being the _heavenly_ creature she was had offered to help the mistress of the inn when she'd seen their panicked faces and how there was a lack of help because the assigned workers couldn't come in because of the storm. Thus, she'd donned on an apron, and helped as much as she could with her pathetic skills in cooking (Van of-course refused to wear a flowery-patterned apron; he wanted to hold onto the last threads of his masculine dignity). But, surprisingly, her foods were edible. Now, she _could_ follow recipes, alright. 
    
                He sighed and wrinkled his nose when the strong musky scent of lilies hit his nose. Keeping the cursed flower a foot away from him, he brought it to the counter to fill it up with fresh water, when he nearly bumped into her.
    
                "Watch out!" 
    
                She sidestepped in just the right second and when their eyes collided, they could only smile. Hitomi smiling cheerfully as if her smile was the sun itself, and Van's dark, like the moon. Her nose was smudged with flour and she looked comical with a tray full of fresh salads, like some minx of the forest. 
    
                He couldn't resist.
    
                He tweaked her nose, rubbing it and she immediately backed away, spilling some lettuce and tomato. She sighed exasperatedly, "Now, look what you made me do!"
    
                He laughed and before he could stop himself, before he could help himself to think, to reason, he bent down and quickly closed the distance between them, his lips brushing her nose. She stopped. All coherent words went out to the bin. 
    
                _Oh my God!_ Her eyes, not obeying her, riveted to his face and the image she met softened her heart, a softening that wasn't welcome. By God, she just wanted to get out of one bad relationship and now...she couldn't possibly...nay!
    
                He was smiling at her, that kind, beautiful smile that could knock one out cold for hours and keep throwing a bucket after another of water to cool the heat that effused through the body. 
    
                And then the crying reached their ears. Lusty cries of a baby.
    
                They both whipped to the direction of the very audible sound. In the corner table, a little car-seat rested and they both instinctively headed towards the lone babe. 
    
                She hastily placed the salad on another table and followed Van. The baby was beautiful, his soft curly hair a caramel brown, and his eyes periwinkle blue.
    
                She couldn't help it, the tenderness that moved through her and she automatically cooed, "It's alright, darling, it's alright." She caressed its head all the while cooing, and all the while the male watched her. 
    
                There was something utterly bewitching about the scene before him. She would fulfill the job of a caring, loving mother very well. Whoever's children she bore. And he _knew_, the man she'd marry would want very many from her. Very, very many. 
    
                And yet the thought irked and provoked him.
    
                Why? He didn't even _want_ to admit. Ignorance was bliss. 
    
                Her eyebrows met in a frown, "Come on Van, make yourself useful. Here, hold the baby. My hands still smell of salads."
    
                "Wha—" Carefully, making sure the shawl wasn't soiled, she lifted the baby, muttering something about irresponsible mothers. She placed it in his arms that automatically, out of their own will, had stretched over to receive the fragile bundle.  
    
                He held it awkwardly and frowned deeply and the baby looking at his frown, began to cry with a pitch that could rival an opera singer's. She shook her head and he could tell she was amused when she spoke, "You obviously don't like babies very much?"
    
                "Oh, brilliant observation, Kanzaki." Goddamn, what _did_ you do with these...err...squealing little creatures? He tried to whisper but he doubted that the baby could even hear it. 
    
                "Shh..." she soothed the baby, caressing its stomach affectionately, having to go on her toes to actually do so since Van was holding him so high up. It was a comical, yet tender picture they made. An epitomical portrait of a perfect Gaean family, with her hair falling over, her face filled with blooming innocence, his frowning face that could be mistaken as that of a very worried, caring father's. 
    
                Blue eyes watched from the corner.
    
                She giggled as he tried to mimic her in calming the baby. "Van, didn't you ever know? Babies like high voices. Female voices."
    
                "Sexist."
    
                She grinned, "More like smartest." She challenged him, her eyes still laughing, "Make your voice higher."
    
                And he did.
    
                And Hitomi thought she was going to die from laughing.
    
                It was the funniest thing she had heard in a long, long time, and Van trying to make his honeydew tenor higher was simply beyond describing. He frowned, "Good for my ego. Keep on laughing."
    
                She straightened, though her lips were wobbly and she harrumphed trying to clear away the last remnants of mirth but it still remained, "Yes, very bad. You know babies also know if they can trust you." She thought for a moment, "Like horses know if you've ridden one before or how much experience you have. They know who's potentially dangerous and might drop them." Her eyes glinted as his arms tightened, "Don't drop him."
    
                The baby gurgled, forming a smile, "Mewling little monsters," he muttered.
    
                She only laughed when the baby started to drool and then it crept down to the sleeve of his shirt. "Ouch. Wait," she giggled, "I'll get a napkin for that."
    
                It was time to make her move, the woman knew. Walking as if she was strutting down the runway, the woman with very light, almost pale blonde hair and flashing blue eyes walked down, her extremely, long, shapely legs clearly visible through the stockings that she wore under the short skirt. 
    
                The poor man was too busy in how to communicate to the baby that it was improper to drool. "He's adorable, isn't he?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a seductive lilt more suited to the dark of a bedroom. 
    
                His eyes flashed up to her and he gave a small smile, "Yours?"  
    
      
    
    
    
      
    
      
    
    
    
                "Yes," she eyed him, noticing all his bold, sculpted features and finding it very aesthetically pleasing, "Care to share the burden?" 
    
                He gave a short bark of laughter, "He's all yours, miss."
    
                There was nothing sexier than a sexy man holding a baby in a manner that he'd done it a million times. 
    
                Stiffly, he handed the baby, wincing inwardly when the baby started to cry again when his mother held him. "Charming kid."
    
                She frowned, "He takes after his father."
    
                "Oh," he said dumbly, finding himself quite out of place when she started to cuddle the little thing and soothe him to no avail. "He likes being caressed on the stomach." He added abruptly.
    
                "Huh?"  
    
      
    
    
    
      
    
      
    
    
    
                "It makes him feel better." The woman gave a lazy smile, a thing that he found utterly disgusting to watch, where in his place, many men would've taken that as an open invitation.
    
                "So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked as she followed his directions and found success.
    
                He shrugged, looking above her shoulder, scanning the room. Hitomi was carrying the tray laden with salad and he found himself smiling at just her image. Her hair was falling into her face and she whipped up her head like a young, restless, colt trying to get it out of the way. How he wanted to brush it apart for her. 
    
                "Mmm...it's gotten awfully cold in my room. What about yours?" He jerked back to look at the woman. 
    
                He looked faintly amused though inwardly he wanted to reply in a steely voice. How obvious could you get?! His Hitomi wouldn't be caught doing this. 
    
                ...when had she become his?
    
                "My bed's hot."  He looked up. Hitomi had disappeared. 
    
                The woman, however, took that in the wrong manner and saw it as an invitation. "Care to share the warmth?" She gave him a teasing smile.
    
                He muffled a laugh, "It's already taken."
    
                She pouted prettily, nay, ugly to him, and spoke coyly. "Don't tell me it's that little mouse haired woman?" She wasn't little, but in comparison to her, Hitomi was a few inches shorter. And he had decided that she definitely did _not_ have mouse colored hair. It was much, much prettier...like liquid bronze gold.
    
                Anger, hot as lava, boiled in his veins and he snapped, finding himself furious beyond reason, "That woman is my wife." _Oh, really, Fanel? Why the hell did you just say that?!! Shut up! Stupid conscience..._ His eyes wandered to look for his absent 'wife.' 
    
    She watched them, his laugh, his smiles. _Damnit__, Hitomi! You don't care if he flirts! He's allowed to do whatever he wants. You don't care...you don't...YOU DON'T! _ 
    
                She did. 
    
                She told herself she wasn't jealous, but it would've been easier if the woman wasn't so damningly pretty. She had the svelte shape of a model, the body very finely toned, even a bit _too_ skinny, but her hair gorgeously spilled down to her arms, all that light blonde mass that shone like the sun's rays. She was the stuff of men's fantasies. Specifically, more fitting to Van's fantasies and desires. She admitted to herself, they made a very, attractive, beautiful pair, she contrasting with her lightness and it definitely resembled family pictures in which the husband, wife and child were together in close proximity. A picture in which she was not included in.
    
                ...not that she particularly wanted to be, right?
    
                _You're damned, Hitomi... The blonde, leggy, witch is more to his taste. Why the heck should you even care?_ Yes, why should she care? She checked the time and found out it was already six in the evening. Her muscles were tired and all she wanted to do was to sink into a tub of hot water and forget all her worries. Aye, that's what she would do. Absently, she touched her nose where she could still feel the traces of his lips...
    
    ~*~
    
                The smell of candles, a jasmine and juniper smell wafted through the bathroom as she luxuriously rested in the bathtub. It was hot and her skin flushed in a welcoming manner. She hummed to herself, the song playing in her ears through the earphones that were connected to the CD player. Oh how relaxing this was! She shifted in the water, the bubbles rising up to cover her nakedness, until only the flesh till her collarbone was visible. 
    
                She was in a contemplative mood. Thinking of Allen. She sighed deeply. He was different from Van in every level, physically, mentally. In every way. 
    
                Times like these she wanted the warm arms of her mother to tell her what was right, who was right for her. Too bad, she would have to deal with it now by herself. She was a strong woman, an independent one.
    
                He walked into the room, closing the door softly, his mind deeply involved in his thoughts. Right now, he needed to jump into a shower, or at least wash his face. He needed to think straight. What was wrong with him?
    
                He twisted the knob, looking at the floor, half-paying attention, his fingers automatically going to his shirt buttons on the top, and it wasn't until he looked up, did he pause. Frozen to the spot. Rooted. Dumbstruck.
    
                There she was. In front of him, her one long, shapely leg on the base of the tub, her body covered with bubbles...her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her face oh-so-serious. And so very kissable. 
    
                He felt as if was going to do something that he would regret very, very much and the hardening of his body indicated so.
    
                She felt eyes on her, the eerie sense of being watched very intensely. 
    
                Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she met the sight before her. 
    
                _Oh God!_ _Sink me!_  He was openly gaping at her, her body glistening as the water made her skin shine supremely like it was polished silk. His fingers were still paused at the spot of his collar where he had begun to unbutton and he was just staring at her, not saying a word. 
    
                And scaring the hell out of her. 
    
                "_What the hell are you doing here?!_" she hissed, slicing the silence sharply.
    
                He closed his mouth, his arms slackened and his voice had a hint of anger, "What were _you_ doing not locking the door? How was I supposed to know it was you in there?"  
    
      
    
    
    
      
    
      
    
    
    
                She frowned and shot back angrily, sinking deeply into the water, when she felt his eyes on the base of her throat, "I locked it!"
    
                "Then how I did I open it?"
    
                "For God's sake, turn around!" He gave her a deliberately long look, a look that had her heated up and she knew it wasn't because of the water.
    
                He turned on his heel, shoving his hands in the depths of his pockets. The song could still be heard, very faintly. 
    
    "So here we go  
    
      
    
    
    
      
    
      
    
    
    
    Let's just dance  
    
      
    
    
    
      
    
      
    
    
    
    Teach my soul to take this chance
    
    Put my heart
    
    In your hands"
    
                She switched it off, placed the CD player on the tiled floor of the bathroom. "All I know is that I locked it."
    
                "Yes, and I picked the lock," he said sarcastically, "because I was dying to see you like this."
    
                "Oh shut up! You should've known I was in here!" Her whole body was shaking for an unknown reason. 
    
                "I didn't see you downstairs so I thought you were busy somewhere else, and plus you didn't tell me you were going up!" he countered.
    
                She grit her teeth, "Okay, fine. Can we talk about this later, preferably when I am finished bathing?"
    
                "I don't think we need to _talk_ about this," his voice had a roughness as he spoke and it widened her green eyes. _No, sweetheart, we need to _do_ something about this._
    
                Well, that suited her just fine. Gosh, how embarrassing! She thanked the bubbles fervently that covered her up from his prying eyes. The moment she'd been cognizant of his presence, she had very, very, feverishly wanted to become a vapor and disappear into the air (after debating on many forms of death, she concluded that drowning would be an awfully painful one...she'd had many occasions when she'd wanted to become a vapor or just dust in the air). Oh wonderful life was.
    
    ~*~
    
                Her hair was carefully blow dried and parted so that it fell in an orderly way. She sighed as she observed his wonderfully muscular back as he pored over a magazine. He carelessly threw it at the side when she stepped out and looked up at her, his auburn eyes like a rainy mist of autumn leaves. Rainy mists that she felt caress every part of her body and made her shiver like some mad leaf. _God, woman, get a hold on yourself!_
    
    "And the Bathing Sleeping Beauty steps out."
    
                She stuck her tongue at him, "And you're the Peeping Tom."
    
                He laughed, "Sorry, sweet, not into voyeurism."
    
                Her eyes crinkled. It was only with a few words that he made her feel unusually comfortable. "Everyone says that."
    
                His eyes danced devilishly, "Does that mean you are?"
    
                "Of-course not!" she huffed but she smiled soon afterwards, his next words making her aim a magazine at him.
    
                "I'll leave the bathroom door open all the time for you to watch me shower." He winked roguishly.
    
                She snorted when he ducked and her aim hit the wall. She just shook her head and went inside to heat up some milk. Milk always helped her to sleep and today she wanted to sleep fitfully.
    
                "What are you doing?" he yelled from the miniature couch, his long, masculine legs stretched out on the carpet in a languorous manner. 
    
                "Getting some milk. Do you want some?"
    
                "Yeah, sure." She stuck her head out of the kitchen to listen to him.
    
                "Cold, warm, or hot?"
    
                He grinned mischievously and said it in a suggestive manner, "I like it scalding, very hot."
    
                She shook her head, "Fanel, I am offering you milk here, I don't know what's going in that mind of yours." 
    
                He looked at her grinning like some lad. _I am sure you do. Exactly what I want to do to you I find myself thinking, it's never enough..._
    
                Her shoulders shook with laughter nonetheless and she rolled her eyes.
    
                Then minutes later, when they'd drunk the milk, a yawn escaped her mouth and she found herself rubbing her eyes.
    
                "You're tired."
    
                "Mmhmm," she murmured, her eyes feeling drowsy. "I am so very tired." He helped her up, surprisingly very gentle and guided her towards the bed. He glanced at her outfit; it was a sweatshirt and some woolen pants, which looked somehow adorable on her. He shook his head mentally, and his mind here was turning into a bowl of mashed potatoes.
    
                He shifted her on the bed until she laid comfortably, a careless smile playing on her lips, "Thanks, Van," she said softly.
    
                His Adam's apple bobbed just looking at her, and he knew what exactly she resembled when he'd seen her in white. 
    
                An angel. 
    
                A creature of heaven, not to be harmed, not to be taken advantage of, but to cherished, protected, and above all, unconditionally, irrationally, madly loved.
    
                He switched off the lamp, hearing the soft breaths that came from her lips. He'd already changed into a different shirt and going to the other side, he parted the covers and slipped in beside her. 
    
                For moments he stayed that way, not touching her, feeling the coldness of the bed envelope him, knowing that beside him, she was shivering.
    
                He turned, and with a deeply content sigh, his arm went around her and he brought her close to him until her back was only a breath away. He stared into the darkness and softly, sure that she was asleep he said, "Sleep with the angels, sweetheart."
    
                "Don't." 
    
                It took a moment to register her talk and he smiled warmly. She turned to face him and he allowed his arms to slacken for just those moments, then they were bands of steel again. "You're awake."
    
                "You liked that woman, didn't you?" she asked, mentally berating herself, cursing herself for her stupidity.
    
                "What woman?" he asked quizzically.
    
                "Gosh Van, I am not blind! That blonde woman today!"
    
                "What?" he asked, and damn him, because his voice sounded genuinely confused.
    
                She couldn't believe how _vicious_ her voice sounded when she spoke, but it did. And here she thought that she was above being a green-eyed monster. "That blonde witch with the baby, practically pushing her body on yours, hanging onto your every word."
    
                "Oh, I didn't realize she was blonde." 
    
                Apparently that was not a good answer in her book. "Unhand me right this moment, Fanel."
    
                "What's wrong with you, sweet—"
    
                "Don't call me 'sweetheart'! I am not one of those women you can have a little fling with and then kiss goodbye the next morning! Not one of your conquests and I hate being called something that you've probably called countless women! For all I know, you were probably calling that ditz the same thing!"
    
                So heated up she became, she didn't see the smile that was spreading like a tide on his face. His voice was low, very soft, very sweet as he whispered into her ear, "I didn't realize she was acting that way...because...I was looking at you carrying the salads. Your hair was falling out of place. I wanted to go and fix it for you."
    
                She stopped. 
    
                Speechless.
    
                _Nooo__!_ She did not, she gasped, become possessive of him?! She had absolutely no right! No claim over him at all! It didn't make things any better when he started whispering even more things in her ear, words that made her feel like she a blushing machine producing heat in massive immeasurable amounts, "All the while, I was thinking of how the woman didn't look like you, how I disliked her because she smiled in a certain way that was disgusting, how I wished I could see you smile, just once. How I wished," _I could touch you,_ "I could make you laugh so that your eyes would sparkle in that way nothing ever can."
    
                She gasped, his lips ever so close to her ears, his breath fanning her. She wasn't sure if it was an accident of if it was done purposely. She liked to believe it was the former...he didn't mean anything by his words, did he? 
    
                Just in the very slightest, softest, manner his lips brushed her ear and his arms deliberately tightened, enclosing her in his cocoon of heat. She shivered and her arms came around his, holding him close to her thundering heartbeat.

**~**_It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.~_

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**A/N: Soo, it's here!! ^_^;; How was it? Hope I didna disappoint anyone...there's a bit less of humor in this one, a bit less of teasing as he usually does, but it had to be this way... The tension is growing between them and can you sense it? ^___________^;; Oh yes, I am going to *puts hand on heart* stick with the PG-13 rating here. XD! So, don't worry!!! ^___________________^ My God, don't even ask about how long this fic is going to be because I haven't a blasted idea!! *ruffles hair* I can tell you, atleast seven chapters and I hope to finish this before summer!! Oh yeah, doooooooon't worry that I won't be finishing this and abandon it! I won't!! Also, my other fics won't be updated anytime soon. I am just working on this. School is taking a huuuuge toll on me and really I need to concentrate and study for my two AP exams and my other classes! *ruffles hair exasperatedly* I am just out of time these days and a bit low on the inspiration...soo...make me feel better and review! Oh yes, that song was "Simple Things" by Rebecca Lynn Howard. Very pretty. ^___________________^;; xD also, the whole blonde woman scene was inspired by a scene from _Kiss of The Highlander_...you'll have to read it!!! It's gooood!! xD but it's not the same scene...in _Kiss_ it was different. **

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers and faithful readers! Also, to those who read by don't review! I know you exist! XD But, review to be acknowledged! Bwhaha! **

**Ja-ne****!! Oh yes, Happy Spring Break!!!!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four: Flying to ****Paradise******

~_There is nothing holier in this life of ours, _

_Than the first consciousness of love,_

_The first fluttering of its silken wings. ~_

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

          She could feel a slight pressure on the skin right below her collarbone. Softness. A strange kind of roughness. Warmth. Skin to skin. It was a delicious feeling, a sensation that she hadn't experienced before. Her hands roamed around the hard canvas, pausing in places, pulling it closer. Oh, how good it felt! There was a comforting weight on her body, a heaviness that seemed unnervingly familiar, and felt _right._

          His big, heat-generating hands were caressing her waist not even faintly aware he was doing so, and his hot breath hit her skin in short intervals. His hands were traveling up, leaving a trail of fire, thumbs grazing, gripping, and they finally landed on one of her most sensitive places.

          Her chest; more specifically, her right breast.

          Her lashes shot open suddenly like a crack of thunder, and she breathed in shallowly, her chest rising and falling heavily, her chin feeling the softness of onyx strands of hair. His face was under her chin, his torrid breath brushing the faint outline of her breasts that were exposed because of the neckline that had decided to fall lower during sleep. The thickness of the sweatshirt was apparently not enough for the constant heater Van Fanel was. If she stayed in this position any longer, her sweatshirt would surely burn to a crisp, a situation she definitely did not want to think about. 

          But, as luck had it with her, he chose that particular moment to brush her breasts with his long fingered graceful hands and nuzzle her neck, groaning low in his throat. His other hand went to bury in her hair, sensuously kneading her scalp, and then coming down to caress her nape in little circles. She stiffened like a floor board and she was ambushed, half of his body over hers. She was spellbound in a pool of sweltering heat that would leave her in ashes if she didn't do something quick. What was sort of man was he? Was he so used to doing such things all the time that he could do it to just about any woman? Hitomi Kanzaki was definitely not used to such a _ritual_, and the most frightening thing was: she wouldn't be bothered waking up like this...

          ...if it weren't Van Fanel!!

          _What kind of man is he?! Just because he said a few sweet things doesn't mean I am going to let him have his way with me—_She gasped when she felt his head lifting, the weight from her chest rose, and she had to face his eyes that only rendered her speechless. 

          His irises were that stormy color, containing a more red than brown. Passionate eyes. He was looking at her wide-eyed, very much awake, the flutter of his exhalation like that of a fire breathing dragon. Just looking at her and if she thought he even cared about her, even desired her honestly, he was most probably undressing her right that moment in his mind.

          But he didn't care about her and there were definitely many more desirable women in the world; had they suddenly perished and died of some plague to have this virile, hot, man looking down at her as if he was going to devour her?  

          Not in this lifetime.

          His voice was edged with unevenness, a thickness, "What are _you_ doing?" The question was more of rhetoric, an inner query that was along the lines of _What the hell are you making me do?!_    

          She looked up angrily at him, painting the picture of an irate child with her hair mussed, her eyes brilliantly verdant, but her speech definitely had a more adult note to it. "If you remove your hand that has _somehow_ crept under my sweatshirt, onto my waist, then_ maybe _I'll consider not slapping you!" Her voice was deadly, and very, very serious and icy. 

          Indeed, his hand had strayed there, and Van Fanel found himself doing a thing that he considered that was beyond his age of twenty six. A tint of red decorated his cheeks and he forcibly pulled it away, his knuckles zipping through her satiny skin. 

          But his eyebrows rose in what very much seemed to Hitomi to be a satanic look but he spoke raggedly, "I pulled my hand away, would you _mind_ removing your hand from my hip?"..._no matter how much I _mind _and want it there, but thinking straight while your hand strays is like trying to breathe without oxygen. _

It was her time to blush a fiery tomato, while his was a vague one that disappeared underneath his tan skin. If there was one good reason to get a tan it was that: it masked annoyingly, violent blushes. She mentally added that to one of the long list of what she wanted changed about her looks.

          However, at the moment, there were more serious and perilously tempting things to consider about. Like the possibility of not being scorched to a burnt toast under his gaze. "Would you _stop_ looming over me?" He looked like an ardent lover floating over his love, and presently, Hitomi Kanzaki couldn't even _begin_ to consider such possibilities. Nay, it would be better for her overall health if she just packed her bags and went out in the storm and _walked_ to her destination, rather than stay one second more with him. 

          Even angels were tempted.

          He swiftly went to the side and lay beside her, very provoked to answer 'no' to her rhetoric. For a few minutes, they just lay there, listening to each other's shallow breaths, feeling the coldness creep into their bodies, the warmth that the other irradiated trying to fight it off. 

          Her mouth opened gradually, with effort as she spoke. "I'll go and shower first."

          He somehow found his voice, but a wry smile graced his features. "Leave the door open," she blushed fiercely, "I admit now, I _am_ into voyeurism." He gave the façade of a very officious person, his voice like honeydew, "I could _rub _your back." _When it concerns you only, sweet._ Her face, gradually got hot more and more so, her body responding in the same way. Did it make any better that he kept telling her all these, well, _fiercely alluring_ things and expect her to think like an intelligent young woman? 

          "Idiot," she muttered. He propped up his head on his elbow, realizing that just talking to her generated heat in his body. 

          He grinned, his eyes twinkling like the morning star itself, "If you find that offensive, don't worry, I'll leave _mine_ open." 

          Thus they rose, teasing, little by little, that Hitomi did not even realize the cold of the carpet, or that she was heading to the cool tiled bathroom. His banter kept her hot as a volcano till the tips of her toes. 

          Could she get used to this? Maybe...but she dared not to.

~*~

          "Well, Fred, the major part of the storm has passed. Previous weather reports indicated that a cold blast would take over the northeast but the storm course has been changing and now its apparently heading northwest," couples and family gathered around the TV found in the commons area of the hotel room, and at the sound of the weather report, a general smile crossed everyone's face. 

          Lunch had been served, Hitomi helping again, and the people now grew close to her, seemed like a family. That's what she'd always wanted. A big family, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, but her father had been the only child and her mother only had a sister who still remained single. _Heh, you'll be like your aunt unless you stop picking apart guys…_Aye, she'd been doing that, thinking up on little details about Allen, his habits, his attitudes, and comparing it shamelessly to the last person on Gaea she should be comparing to—Van Fanel.

          His lips quirked into a smile as he looked at her, almost as if knowing she was thinking of him. _Great, I land with a mind reader. _She looked away at the children huddled around a plump looking woman who appeared quite blatantly harassed as one a little girl accused a boy of cutting her hair, a little fair haired boy sucked on a candy cane drooling all over it, another chased his siblings. Her eyes softened at the sight, she'd done enough of chasing her brother, but he'd come close to killing them when he'd nearly burned down the kitchen because of leaving the oil in the frying pan for too long. _How _did_ I survive all those years?_ She smiled wryly to herself.

          He was mesmerized.

          He'd brashly watched her during the time she was helping with the lunch. There was something unique to her, the way she smiled warmly so that her eyes lit up like sunshine on verdant leaves, her genuine desire of wanting to help others, her acceptance of her failures (she'd tried her hand her at chocolate mousse, but unfortunately the chocolate seized when she tried to melt it since water droplets had gotten into it, and the expected liquid chocolate turned grainy), and her curiosity to learn. She was plain amazing and was always making people smile, laugh, or offering encouraging comments. Laughter and smiles trailed Hitomi like a magnet. If he'd been of a poetic nature, he'd go as far as to say that the whole room lit up because of her. No. That was too clichéd. The whole room was basked with sunshine wherever she went. 

          …he wasn't poetic, right?

Van Fanel, hailed as being extremely intelligent, couldn't explain why she wasn't cozied up with a man. Nay, there were many men who didn't even deserve her. She was beyond them, worth her weight in gold. Perhaps, he mused, she hadn't found a man worthy yet…and it wasn't much so the problem of her being unattractive as she so vehemently claimed. _She's too attractive for her own good…_

          He realized that he'd been absolutely crazy in the beginning when he'd thought she wasn't particularly beautiful. Had he been blind? _Blinded by her beauty that you couldn't even _see_ her!_ But little by little all those small quirks she possessed became endearing to him somehow, the way she tilted her head when she talked to him, her engaging voice, even her manner with children.

          Her everything.

          He liked it _too_ much for a man who'd sworn that most women weren't honest that there wasn't one woman who still had such high ideals and morals as she did. 

          But she did exist. Only an arm length's away.

          She arched her eyebrows, a smile flirting on her lips, "What's swirling in that mind of yours?"

          He grinned, "Something you wouldn't want me to share."

          She gave a mock expression of disgust but muttered to herself genuinely, "probably mentally undressing and fantasizing about that red-head there…"

          He shook from laughter, his rust colored eyes swimming in mirth, "Sweetheart, the whole male population doesn't do only that, and there are other things that you can't share."

          She gave him a skeptical look, "Like _what_?" Had she _really_ been thinking he was thinking of the pretty red-head dressed in an outfit that showed more than covered?

          However, his lips spread crookedly and he leaned all the while her eyes growing larger at his close proximity. For some reason, her heart beat double, her breath caught, her stomach felt twisted near his presence. Luckily, he was a hairsbreadth away from her ear and didn't see her face flushing. He gave the appearance of sharing a little, loving secret. "You know sweet, it's also very erotic to verbalize fantasies…" His breath tickled her ears, and the flush that was pink, became a bright magenta. 

          "Fanel," she hissed, "I swear, I shouldn't even talk to you!" She stood primly on the comfortable chenille couch, and she reprimanded like a mother would if a child swore. _She looks so cute when she's annoyed…_

          He grinned like a lad, so happy he looked that for a moment she just watched him, stopping her talk.

          Their eyes met; his was warm, the color of cinnamon and raspberries, and hers the first, young color of spring leaves.

          She smiled up at him, her eyes crinkling and an understanding dawned between them. "You're an awful man, Van."

          "You humble me each time you speak," he flashed his teeth.

          She came closer to him, her face drawing closer to his, and for a moment he panicked. His eyes were widening, his breath getting caught as she inched closer with that misty look in her eyes, but she did as he had done before. She went to his ears, so that her breath grazed his ears in a manner that he found surprisingly  arousing. "My poor little virgin ears don't need to hear such things…" She wrenched away, grinning like an innocent school-girl.

          He forced a smile on his face, _God, she admits!_

He truly was feeling like he was Satan. At that moment, it was so keen. That desire to just simply to pull her in his arms, just to hold her, just to feel her. Its nature wasn't sexual; it was something purer, a kind of affectionate need that he hadn't experienced with other women. The only women he'd ever embraced were his mother and his sister and that was no passionate embrace. Nay, he wanted to pull her to him so tightly and never release her.

          But her smile shrunk to a normal curve and her eyes had a very far away look. Slowly, she rose, and he observed her as she headed to the window, away from other chattering couples. Curious of what she was going to do, he silently followed her.

          She was gazing out the window, the kind of way that reminded him probably the way Juliet would've done as she'd done her monologue. Yearning. Wishing. Longing.

          He wanted to find out, it burned within him. To know the enigma, the intricacies of her mind, what behind it, what she yearned for, what she dreamed of, what troubled her. 

          Outside, snow fell like angel's feathers, but the temperature outside was such that it wouldn't stick to the ground and become hazardous. 

He found himself exhale a sigh.

Not wanting to startle her, he quietly stood beside her so that she would be aware of his presence. He was surprised when she spoke, her voice soft, like a little child's, "What did you always dream of, Van?"

"Hmm, in what sense?" he asked gently, not wanting to break the aura of calm that enfolded them.

"Like impossible things…things that you can't do but always wanted to be able to do." 

He ran a hand around his nape and being perceptive as he was, he knew she wasn't just talking about getting an A on AP Chemistry in high school that he'd failed in getting. "What did _you_ want to do?" He wasn't sure. He'd never considered of seemingly impossible things he'd wanted to do.

"Fly," she tilted her head to meet his eyes, her smile warm, "I always wanted to fly and touch the skies."

God, he was crazy! He was mad! But he knew the dangerous thought that was crossing his mind. He wanted to her wishes come true. It was inevitable, he should've seen it coming, but now his mind was abuzz, processing her simple wish.

He gave her a small smile, "I think you could say I wanted to do that myself many times…"

She grinned, "I was such a crazy girl when I was a kid."

His dark eyebrow shot up and if the scene wasn't so perfect, he might've even been a bit cynical in his reply. But he softened. And he wasn't sure why. "How so?"

"Well, when I was five and introduced to the wonderful thing called swings, I thought if I swung hard enough maybe I'd be able to fly and touch the skies. I used to love looking out of airplanes when we'd go through the clouds, they were always so pretty." She shook her head as if finding those thoughts ridiculous. She still was guilty of wanting to swing…the simple rush of soaring, the freedom, the wind whipping in the face, coloring her cheeks.

"Don't."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Don't trample on your dreams." He was quiet, and his face serious, stern. 

She raised eyebrows doubtfully, "So, you think I can fly and touch the skies?"  
  


He shrugged. "You never know."

They remained, looking out, as little cottony flakes, whispers of snow fell to the ground, making it look like a white wonderland of dreams.

He wasn't going to do it. Hurt her. She was too good, and he wasn't worthy of her. He'd better keep his hands off of her and god knows how tempted he would be, how _painful_ that would be. That irrational part of him just wanted to reach his arm around her back and pull her close to him and tell her foolish things. He wanted to do these things for her, finding a desire so strong that it overpowered any sexual desire he had for her. But he knew. He'd have to let her go and allow her to walk another faceless man's arms, a man he was unreasonably angry with at the moment. 

  How could he explain this mood swing? How could he explain the way he felt for her, the sheer protectiveness, possessiveness, and the _need_ for her to talk to him, to look at him with those softened green eyes that would have men on their knees, at least he could vouch for himself. He would go on his knees and more if a single tear leaked out of those eyes only meant for sunshine, giggles and laughter; rain had no place for them. Happiness; she was meant for happiness.

That, he could not offer.

But, it was for that reason that he didn't touch her, prompt her to believe in him, to get too familiar, though others may beg to differ. What if she was some passing intriguing creature? What if this was borne from lust? The last time he'd bed a woman was six months ago and perhaps that fire was lighting because of not being with a woman.

 _She_ needed something more than those superficial things, she deserved something permanent, stable. He'd seen countless marriages go down the drain, even though his parents' relationship was still going strong. The magic of courting faded and couples were faced with work, children, and wanting to kill themselves for the pressure put upon them and the understanding that didn't exist between them. Oh yes, he'd pondered a lot about why he didn't want to marry. 

He had _some _values, and that being marriage would lead to kids. He didn't see marriage as two people living together, it was more intimate, they were sharing their joys, their sadness, their grief; everything. It was the absolute giving of oneself to another, body, soul, mind. The other had the key to all these and it was theirs. He didn't want his kids to grow in an environment of fighting, tears, and sorrow. Nay, he wanted what seemed idealistic: a marriage of minds. He wanted to be able to look and tell what the other was thinking, be able to understand each others wants and needs. 

If he married any woman that pleased him in bed, he knew that he would be coming late, doing things that he pleased, be selfish and if he was lucky she'd nag, and if he wasn't, she'd quietly seek someone else to fill the emotional need and accept his motives and actions with the façade of a smile. There were always those willing to offer that, he thought disgustedly. He didn't want his marriage to be one of show, where the only part that made you a good couple was if your wife was hanging down your arm and you looked good in a tux and she in a dress in societal functions.  

Stuff of dreams, his thoughts were the stuff of dreams and not to be found in the world we simply called Reality. In his own way, Van Fanel was a dreamer, but this universe was not made for dreamers and it was harsh to those who chose to live by them. That's why he'd locked himself, chained his heart, so that nobody could glimpse into them. 

His jaw was set, firm in place. He knew what to do now. It was inexorably drawing close and the conclusion he'd drawn did not please him. Not a bit.

Bending down, he spoke quietly, "I am going up."

She looked at him, surprised, "I'll come with you, then."

"You don't have to," he pointed out matter-of-factly, a voice so alien that she blinked twice rapidly and her face looked concerned.

"I want to; besides, are you feeling well?" 

Damn. 

She did the cute gesture of placing the back of her hand on his forehead, something nobody had ever done for him, at least no female that he'd only known for a couple of days. Her lips quirked into an enchanting smile,"Nope. No fever."

"Thank-you for your consultation, Doctor Kanzaki," he muttered dryly.

"Hey now, I was just caring for you! Don't need to get so huffy." Van always got the flu at least once a year and many women had run from him, only sending him get well flowers that stunk up the whole house and made his head ache; ultimately, the exorbitantly priced flowers were found lying in the trash. He'd heard many syrupy notes on the phone, voices that sickened him further.

"Are you _really_ alright? You don't look it." she asked doubtfully, her eyes regarding him with that curious nature as if she was searching into his soul, going to the very darkest depths and seeing him for what he was. A man who wasn't worthy, a blackguard that mothers would want to fence away from their daughters.  

He ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah."

He turned on his heel, knowing very much how rude it was, but he had to do it. He had to...he had to... 

He didn't want to.

Rapid footsteps behind him indicated that she was following him and immediately he quickened his pace. 

Gritting her teeth, she pushed her head onwards, "Fanel, we're not racing! Just slow down!"  
  


He paused at the foot of the stairs. Laughter drifted over from the commons where everyone was gathered. She should've been part of them, laughing with her beloved, a nameless creature that he'd begun to despise for no particular reason. 

She looked up at him, "There is definitely something going on I don't understand! One moment, you're just this wonderfully funny person and the next—"

"There is nothing to understand."

She halted, her eyes grown large, calmly watching him, offering no judgment, no condemnation. They were pure. She didn't say anything and just fell in step with him as he took a stair upwards.

A shock registered when she wove her arm around his waist. And he realized exactly what she expected from him: she expected him to return the gesture. But, was he going to do it? No. Her arm was warm, and the funny heat seeped though him wherever her hand touched him. 

~*~

She was pacing like a caged animal and most aggravated by the dark haired male who sat before her and typed miscellaneous things on his laptop. He'd distanced himself from her, become reserved and quiet, only answering her questions with a word or two at the most. 

Resisting the urge to pull on her hair, she serenely seated herself in front of him, soothing the jeans she wore. "Look, Van," he continued on, but she knew he was listening, "Damnit! I said _look_ at me!"

His eyes instantly rested on her, those big, inquisitive, knowing, intelligent eyes, right now emotionless. Suddenly she felt very nervous and embarrassed, _No surprise, you see to be doing a good job of embarrassing yourself at every opportunity you get. _"What?"

"I-I just want you stop that, stop acting like that." She straightened her spine, somehow realizing that it gave her more _spine_ to talk to him. "Like in that annoying manner of I-don't-give-a-damn about you!"

_What makes you think I _do_?_ He was mute, just watching her. But, unwillingly, he found himself talking, something he'd decided to avoid as much as possible unless it was extremely dire. "...do you give a damn about me?"

Her voice was a hushed whisper, quiet, like an abashed child's admitting to stealing cookies from the jar. "...yes."

He was rooted to the chair, his finger resting on the keyboard, seemingly paralyzed. He clenched his jaw. He would not say it; he wouldn't! ...he would.

She raised her lashes, and the full force of her eyes hit him like a bolt of lightening. 

"...I do too." 

A slow, sweet smile spread across her face, her eyes illuminated like some Christmas lights, his breath catching. 

 Damn his weakness. 

~*~

It was everywhere, snow. They were busy constructing a snow man, something he hadn't done in forever, and by now, he knew she was out of the ordinary and wasn't surprised by any of her suggestions, at one time seeming childish but finding himself even more astonished that he _enjoyed_ it. She had the tact and sophistication of his urbane friends, but she wasn't like them at all. She was genuine, made of flesh and blood, not some flimsy creature only to be doted on from afar decked with all the shallow, phony appearances; honest and sensitive when she needed to be.

The sky was a watercolor clumsily painted upon, the light gray shades mixing with white, a concoction that gave it an ethereal, misty, manifestation. 

                The snow was like feathers heaped up and as he breathed in the fresh smell, his head rising heavenward, green eyes watched him beneath thick eyelashes. 

          He looked so at peace and now when he seemed relaxed, she had the fluttery feeling, like he could pass for an angel, an angel whose arms vowed an ecstatic heaven and beyond. She shivered not because of the gentle cry of the wind and continued molding her snow man.

          "What kind of masterpiece are you working on?" he called behind her shoulder.

          She bit her lip in a smile, "You'll see…" Expertly, she dug her fingers in the snow man's head, forming a little mouth that resembled wicked lips of a Halloween pumpkin. He raised his eyebrows peeking at the face she was sculpting, albeit one that looked very menacing and mean, it was still done very well.

          "Are you creating a Frankenstein there, or a man?"

          She grinned, "I didn't know you considered yourself as a Frankenstein," she shook her head mockingly, "such new revelations I discover..."

          "What was _that_ supposed to mean?" his tone light and curious.

          "Well, this is no Frankenstein, or snow man, this is snow-_Van_." She grinned at his face and he burst out laughing as he saw her snow-_Van_. The thing was the stuff of nightmares of children with its eyes that looked stony, a little twig as his eyebrows that looked menacing and about to bite one's head off, its mouth open in a yell.

          "Funny perspective you have," he said dryly. "I never thought I looked like that," he winked roguishly; "many women have given me a more flattering appearance than that." Oh yes, once he'd bed an artist and she had painted his features, in what he considered was probably more flatteringly, saying that he was a feast for an artists eyes and surely God had been an artist of the highest order to create him thus. He'd shrugged it off. 

           It was a rude, impolite thing that landed with a smack.

          A snowball.

          She grinned impishly, grabbing a fistful of snow, throwing another one at him that hit him on his chest. He ducked the next one, gathering snow in his hand and threw it full force at her which slapped her face. She brushed if off, a giggle erupting from her throat and reached for another one, not realizing that was backing away from him, laughing, and he thwacked her leg next, another one on her arm, another on her abdomen…

          It continued on seriously, him doubling over and laughing and pausing to catch his breath, she being mercilessly cruel and showering him with snow even when he was helpless, "You're a brutal woman!" he said as one smacked his back.

          "That's what Mamoru always said when we had snow ball fights too!"

          An idea formed in his head and he grinned wickedly. He trudged through the soft snow, coming closer and closer to her, all the while she aimed snow balls at him. It wasn't until he was five feet away from her did she looked slightly frightened, "Wh-why are you grinning like that?"

          "Oh, and now it's a crime to grin?"

          "No, no, I didn't say that!" she stepped back and he ran full force. She didn't see it coming, and was astounded as she hit the ground, resting on the soft snow. Cold. It was so cold as snow began to rapidly cover her. It was Van. He'd tackled her to the ground, tickling her until she fell and covering her swiftly with snow.

          "Now, now, princess, just taking your word for wanting to be covered in six feet of snow." He gave her an angelic grin and she couldn't help but sputter as he kept piling the snow on higher and higher. 

          "St-stop! I was kidding! It's too cold!" she moaned, but he continued anyway.

          "Only if you admit it." He grinned wolfishly.

            "Admit what?" giving him a look of ice and daggers, and perhaps a bit of annoyance.

          He paused for a moment, "Admit that you prefer my warmth to the snow." 

          She looked at him as if he was insane, and her eyes narrowed, "You're better than the snow." She huffed, trying to get up, but he gently pushed her down, hovering over her, "I did it, now just let me go!"

          "Now, now, sweetheart, I didn't say _verbally_ admitting it." He was having too much fun, he knew it, but it was getting very interesting. Her eyes were rounding, expecting the most horrible of things to come out of his lips. 

          "Then how?" she became irritated at her own nervousness and bit her chapped lips.

          "Actions speak louder than words. A kiss from you." 

          He was as astonished with his suggestion as she was though his external appearance was calm.

          "Eat snow, Fanel!" she hissed.

          "Anywhere, anytime. One kiss," he continued, "I'll tell you when."

          She clenched her jaw in an obstinate way, "Might as well give up, continue with your covering." She wasn't like many of the women who gave their kisses freely, without restrains. No, kisses were special and only for exceptional individuals. She did care for him, but he was still a stranger, no matter how at ease she felt near him, or how much he made her laugh, or how she trusted him that he wouldn't hurt her.

          He sighed and started the miserable task again, "Tsk tsk, your mother never taught you to compromise?"

          She gave him an icy look, "I don't compromise _myself_ for trivial things and this is definitely not the kind of compromise my mother would approve of."

          He raised his dark eyebrows and she winced as snow covered her jeans now, "Always looking for approval, aren't you?"

          "No," she grit her teeth, "I go by my values."

          He gave a sigh, "Sometimes you need to relax a bit."

          "You relax too much," she shot back. 

          "Well then," he stopped piling up the snows on her, "Why don't you want to kiss me?" he grinned, "promise, I don't bite!"

          She rolled her eyes, "I don't know how you govern yourself, but kisses are special things," her eyes became like a summery green pool and soft, "they're not to be carelessly given or taken." 

          God, if she felt that way about kisses, what did she think of lovemaking? Suddenly, he felt very uncomfortable, uncomfortable about his past and his activities. He'd taken pleasure in such things without thinking too much… He'd been careless, selfish. Near her, he felt unclean, tainted, and the Devil himself. If he had any morals, or any scruples, he'd withdraw the little offer. But he wasn't a gentleman, and desire hit him hard, wanting to just bend down now and take her lips in his. The battle raged on within him and he came to the conclusion if after ten minutes she didn't relent, he'd not force her and let her go. He didn't want her to get hurt or cold. _Heh__, besides, you can warm her afterwards in bed…_He lingered on the last thought more than he cared to admit, and the sensations of this morning came back to him and he resisted the urge to groan and pull her to him. 

          However the next thing she said offhandedly had her captive. The mouse was ensnared and the cat loomed over… "_Besides_, I have no desire to kiss you." Therein she stumbled in a trap, she couldn't convince him that she had 'no desire' especially after awaking each morning by her side, engaging in touching each other. 

          He chuckled, "_Really?_" his eyes laughed, "if that's what's holding you back, sweet, you know I could fix that quite willingly. It'll be painless!" He inched closer to her face.

          "Move away, Fanel, before I decide that you need a concussion!" she said, her face, a mixture of fierceness, fright and…pride.

          "Well, your call. You said it." He cheerily pulled away.

          Minutes passed…six…seven…eight… She was rigid in position, not moving, and the look on her face softened him. He was going to stop and pull her off the ground, be a gentleman—

          "Stop." She whispered, "…I'll do it."

          He blinked, not sure if he'd heard correctly. Somehow, it wounded him to think that she'd not won the race, and he'd forced her to this. He felt, not for the first time, like a lecherous man, bent on taking her innocence.

          Placing his two hands on her waist, he lifted her, telling himself that it was impersonal, that he hadn't been doing it to touch her. She gave him a dirty look, "Give me one reason to continue talking to you?"

          He smiled helplessly, "You care for me?"

          She snorted, "Right." She dusted away the snow from her body and shivered madly, rubbing her arms, hoping friction would create some more heat. "Now, I'll be cold the whole day," she muttered, not hearing his voice that had spoken.

          "…I wouldn't be too sure about that, now."

          When the stepped into the hotel, many eyes went over to them, some smiling and giving her knowing looks. She wasn't quite sure of why… And then it hit her. Her hair was bedraggled, her cheeks glowing from the cold, the incorrigible man grinning in a very satisfied manner…

          She groaned inwardly; the people probably thought that they'd had a nice 'tumble' in the snow! She gave him a helpless look, hoping that he'd stop grinning like that clarify that they'd not been having a 'nice tumble in the snow'. _Oh yes, like he'd go and announce that you two weren't touching or anything like that…fine thing to say, Kanzaki. Knowing him, he probably wants them to think that and is enjoying your response!_

          She just went up to go and change when she was met with the round, wrinkly face of Aya, the innkeeper's wife's sister. She came to her lovingly, reminding her of a grandmother and fussed with her. "Now, now, Hitomi, you'll catch croup or a bad cold; you go on upstairs," Hitomi had to bend down because she her voice was raspy with age, "go wear something nice for dinner, we're havin' a candle lit dinner tonight. Romantic for the couples." The woman with kind brown eyes winked with a kind smile.

          "What for?" she asked as they headed toward the staircase; Van had retreated behind them, giving them space.

          "Well, the couple who founded this lil' town o' ours, it's their anniversary today. We always celebrate it," she gave a beatific smile, "that's why we value love here a lot. It was their dedication, their guidance that made this town flourish, but above all, it was their love."

          "Quaint," she observed, nodding in agreement. 

          "Aye, now go on and fix your lil' disheveled state," her eyes laughed at her, sparkling like a young girl's, "your husband is quite a fine looking man, canna blame ye for not being able to keep yer hands to yourself."

          Bright, flashing flags stained her smooth cheeks and she wanted to correct the woman and tell her that a) he wasn't her husband and b) she had not touched him! But she just nodded and continued on and her old friend left her side, giving a secretive smile to her 'husband' who was mildly amused. He'd caught the last few sentences of their conversation and if Hitomi knew that she'd probably be beyond mortification. 

          She told him casually as they stepped into their room, "Wear something nice tonight."

          He gave her a look of mock offense, "You mean my clothes aren't nice?"

          Knowing what he wanted to hear, she spoke dryly, phrasing it in a manner that seemed more like something he'd say, "They are so nice that women don't want you to remove them."

          "Ouch. Injure me some more." He gave her a lazy grin.

          "Shower's yours," she mumbled as she attacked her suitcase, searching for her attire. Looking back she gave him a warning look, "I am going to take a bath today, and I might be tempted to drown any Peeping Toms."

          He threw back his head and laughed, "Now, you know you want a slave to wash your back." 

          "I can handle that very well, thank-you, very much," she threw back sarcastically.

          "Killjoy." 

          "Exactly. Now, go will you?"

          He grumbled, "And to think that you cared about me…"

~*~

          He tapped the floor anxiously pulling on his coat. It was around half past six and he'd expected her fifteen minutes ago. Women; never trust them to be on time when it considered dressing up. He sighed as he absently saw a pretty dark haired woman pass in a ridiculously short skirt, but it made him smile. His Hitomi would probably be too cold in that skirt so she'd never wear it, also probably it was too short and based on what he'd found out, she would not be caught dead in them.

          He whistled to himself airily, a content smile on his face, his eyes heading towards the top of the stairs—

          And paused.

          Oh. My. God. The image sunk in and Van Fanel was sure even though till the moment he died, he'd never forget the first moment he saw her in a dress. 

          She was stunning, literally.

          With that shy look that sought his approval, she carefully stepped down, the heels being two inches long. Her gown was a flowing whitish-cream wrap dress that exposed her shoulders and fell down to her calves, yet the material was whispery. The body of the dress of cream had an overlay of gauzy fabric, giving it a look of simplicity and elegance. 

          And he was _very_ attracted to that figure. She gave him a hesitant smile, not sure of what to make of his intense gaze. Does he like it? You couldn't tell, the way he was looking at her. He was merely gaping as if indeed she was an angel with wings. Gaping like a little middle-schooler who'd never seen a girl in a dress before.

          It highlighted her curves and gave her a very feminine appeal. It was going to be tonight, tonight he would ask for a kiss. Her hair hung down and was nicely parted, her pink lips needed no lipstick and she'd skipped the blush, knowing full well that when she was with him, blush was no problem. 

          She wasn't sure the kind of impression she made on him; Allen had always insisted on taking her to a parlor and getting her hair intricately done, applying all sorts of cosmetics to enhance her features, and even then he hadn't looked at the way the dangerously handsome man, Van Fanel, gazed at her. She noticed he did not look too bad himself; nay, she was lying if she said that. He looked too good to be true, so much so that it was _criminal_! It was sinful to be _so_ beautiful! _Seriously, Hitomi, breathe in and out… _

          When she was only a foot away from her, he reached up and clutched one of her hands, a gesture that was almost endearing. She blinked up at him. He needed to touch her and check if she was real, and the best neutral gesture was holding hands, at least then he wouldn't scare her away…

          "Shall we?" her voice a bit unsteady, her eyes wavering, nervous.

          "Yes," he spoke, "but only after I tell you how beautiful you look. Don't want any other man to say it before I do."

          She blushed slightly, "And I think you're looking excellent yourself," she looked away, not wanting to see his face, because she'd turn into some ungodly color of pink. You didn't need to consult a coloring chart to see the different shades of red and pink; you just needed to see Hitomi's face.  

          Candles were lit everywhere as they made their way and Van noticed how well his Hitomi's legs were shaped, getting a violent stab of possessiveness and jealousy that they were there for any man to see. _Fanel__, keep your eyes to her face, don't you even stray down…_He had no business looking at her well fashioned, long legs and even more so to think of things pertaining to it. _Well, why the hell does the rest of the male population get to look at them? Oh, because the rest of the male population does not go beyond the fact that she has long legs…and they'd better not_, replied his other side. Illogically, only he had the right to go beyond…

          They sat on the table as dinner was being served, tonight's specialty being steak. She cleared her throat at the silence that was on their table, while others chatted loudly, "You're awfully quiet tonight. Ran out of dirty thoughts?" She baited him with that glowing smile.

          "Well, what thought seemed particularly 'dirty' to you, sweetheart?" His eyes laughed in amusement and he knew she was stuck. 

          She wouldn't be so easily caught telling him about what he'd said and the only thing she could probably say was the comment he'd made earlier. "Well, there was that 'verbalizing fantasies' thing back there…"

          "Oh don't tell me you don't have any fantasies?" he scoffed, enjoying her being uncomfortable all too much. 

          She chose that particular time to take a sip of her wine; at least that would buy her some time on how to reply to his question, "I don't know," she said lamely. 

          "Really?" he chuckled.

          "This isn't exactly an appropriate dinner topic, you know." She huffed, and racked her mind to think of another subject suitable enough to converse about, "You're different, now."

          "How, so?" he asked curiously.

          She twirled her fork in the lasagna, "I don't know. You were harsh when you picked me up, bit of an ass, if you allow me to say," 

          He grinned, "Such intelligent vocabulary."

           "And now, you're just…"

          "Different?" his brows were raised, his lips, smiling.

          "Exactly!"

          "Well, I suppose so," he winked, "I didn't want to pick up a murderer or something."

          "More like _I_ am stuck with one…"

          He nearly choked on his wine with suppressed laughter, "Why would I murder you?"

          She was amused, and it brought an absurd dose of pleasure to him. "Well, for one, I am more afraid of going insane than dying really."

          "Awful woman you are, exactly know how to how make a man feel good."

          "I am sure other women have covered that job pretty well," she remarked wryly. It wasn't until a few seconds later that it took him to register that she was probably referring to a physical sense. 

          He was vaguely humored and didn't respond. They continued eating their meal when she raised her eyes questioningly to him and asked him the last thing he'd expected to hear. "Will you marry?"

          His face snapped up to hers. How different that question would've been if she'd added a 'me' at the end. "No." He said flatly. 

          "Why?" she frowned. "Nothing wrong with marrying."

          "Well, let's just say, I don't want to be a lousy man when I marry." She raised her eyebrows wordlessly asking him to explain. "I don't know…the heat fades somehow for most couples when they marry, wives are left waiting for their husbands, husbands feeling restricted…you know…all that responsibility. Take it for example, you like coming home late, you have a furious wife waiting to strangle you, probably kids waiting to see you." He shrugged, observing her changing faces, and the soft look. 

          "Well," she approached the topic quietly, "I think if you were in love with your wife you would be the first person rushing out of the office to get home." She cocked her head up at him, bestowing a gamin grin. "It's quite obvious, you're probably not ready for love and you're probably looking for her."

          "Her?"

          "The Right One," she straightened her back, "the One who makes you want to not even go to work, to just stay by her side, to talk to her all night long. Being with her makes you feel like there aren't enough hours in the day, not many days in a year, for all the things you want to do together, talk together, see together…" a small  smile touched her face, and he realized that this was what she wanted. Unconsciously, this was what she was revealing about her dreams. Stubbornly, she believed in thing called 'love.' It had to exist. Simply had to…if only for her sake.

          He was hushed and he met her eyes slowly, almost reluctantly, "and what do you do when you see her?"

          "You court her and make her fall in love with you, of-course, and then get married and have a life of happiness."

          Really? Was it that simple? 

          His next question however was more difficult to answer, "Well, does everyone meet their One?"

          "I don't know, I want to believe so, but," she titled her head in thought, "everyone gets a chance of meeting them once, and if they aren't blind they'll realize that they're right for each other. Some don't, and they may be torn because of societal rules, regulations and others simply because they expected someone else…" she shrugged. 

          He found her thoughts intriguing and it kindled the fire to his curiosity. "What are you doing to prepare for not missing him and overlooking him?"  
  


          She shrugged, "You can't really do anything but have your eyes opened on a look out. Sometimes, they're the last people you'd expect to fall for…"

          …those last few phrases hung in the air, ominously, the irony not noticed by both.

           He sipped his wine, watching her head in concentration. Would he ever find the Right One? 

          But the bigger question that he lingered on was: Who would be _her_ right one? Surely not Allen…

~*~

          Music tumbled as a guest played the piano, a very pretty piece and some couples had begun to waltz in the open room. She jumped when he grasped one of her hands in his big, warm one. "Can you waltz, sweet?"

          "Yes," though she didn't remember the last time she'd waltzed. Maybe in the high school graduation dance…

          His eyes were dangerous, dark embers of fire and wood. She placed a hand on his chest, all the while watching him, his one arm weaving around her waist, and he held her other hand in his. The music was slow, having an unearthly, engaging melody. 

          She could feel his body heat, hear the erratic heartbeats, hers or his, she wasn't sure. He pulled her even closer, his head just grazing her shoulder. 

          And he whispered.

          "Do you know how _beautiful_ you look when you smile, Hitomi? When you laugh? When you _embarrass _yourself?" Why the hell was he saying this? Because he needed to. He was afraid; if he didn't verbalize things, he might actually start _demonstrating_ the intensity of his thoughts i. e. touch her. He couldn't hurt her; it was a mantra in his mind, always keeping him in check. 

           Her throat ached, and she stayed there, swaying slightly, just enjoying his warmth, his touch. His dark hair richly contrasted with his golden-honey like skin, his shoulders broad and lean, his thighs, strong and having a singular torridness of its own. Aye, she could feel the heat of his legs, his chest, and to the tips of her fingers. He was everywhere to her, and for those moments as they swayed to the lilting sound of the music, they were each other's universe, each other's air, so ardently they felt each other's presence. 

          They didn't realize when it was that they'd stopped dancing, and her hands had wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest, his arms encircling her and holding her so closely pressed to his body. It was a tenderly fierce embrace and they were lost in each other, so deeply immersed in each other that one couldn't even tell where one began and another started. They didn't leave space for a molecule to squeeze in. 

          The last few traces of the spell remained as a young couple tapped them on the back telling them that pictures of various couples and family were being taken in the adjoining room.

          The wrenched away, slowly, as if they'd been joined by glue and it took effort to just part. 

          Her confused eyes collided with his, but he gave her a tiny smile and they took each others hands, each gripping it tightly and went to the designated room. 

          "Now, now," the man with the high-tech looking camera came to them, "why don't you stand in front of your husband," his voice was authoritative, bossy, and not a question. Hitomi followed the directions, even though slightly exasperated. "And you, yes, you stand behind her, just lean in, exactly like that, yes, yes, good."

          Van didn't need directions on how to hold Hitomi; he gave him a dark look. He knew exactly how; he pulled her back to his chest, his fingers interlocking on her abdomen. They were very much cognizant of each other's bodies and their faces looked tensed.

          "Now, now, think of your happiest moment together," he tried to relax them.

          Various memories crossed her mind… his teasing, his laughter, him kissing her nose… Her eyes betrayed her and she found herself turning and cocking her head to face him. And smiled. His lips curved, fire present in his eyes. But now, he didn't want to scorch or burn her alone. Nay, he wanted her to see the fire that dwelled in him, for her. He wanted her to accept the fire and be part of it, feel as scorched as he did; he wanted them to burn together. 

          The camera flashed and the moment was immortalized forevermore in the confines of a glossy paper.

          "You can pull away now," the man said, slightly amused.

          The picture _was_ done, now. 

          "Oh right," she mumbled and tried to fight his arms away which did not want to let go.  He released her, his eyes unfathomable, which she felt forced to look into.

          "What?" her voice was hushed.

          "I want it. Now." The voice that came forth was husky, rough, like a tuft of grainy cotton. 

            Her eyes riveted to him, frightened, and her hands shook. For the third time in the day, he took it in his, "Shh…don't be afraid."

          She gulped and whispered, "At least not _here_!" 

          "Alright," he took her hand and they wandered in the hallways, coming in the kitchen. 

          She sniffed the air of chicken pies and salads. "Right, how romantic."

          "Another place you have in mind?" he grinned. 

          "No, no," she searched desperately to hold onto to something because her knees felt weak. How would he react? Was she brave enough? He'd find her, she had the horrible feeling. "Are you sure you don't want some of that wine? Or dessert?"

          "No." _I want you; you're headier than wine, sweeter than any dessert._

           "Alright, alright," she said irritably, her voice higher suddenly, "only on one condition though." She met his eyes, challenging to refuse. "You have to close your eyes and bend down; you're too god-awful tall!"

          He chuckled, amused by her request, and also pleased. No, she pleased him _too_ much. "At your service, my damsel."

          The camera man whistled lowly to himself, remembering that he'd left another in the kitchen. 

          And suddenly he paused in his place, his hold on the camera tightening.

          Yes, she was supposed to hold his face in place, and slowly, the palms of her hand ran over his skin that was like rough velvet. She absently caressed his skin for a few moments, not intentionally, but because she had gone astray in just the feel of his skin. He didn't open his mouth to complain but tensed under her hands; they were swiftly arousing him, and God, how badly he wanted to taste her! 

          She stopped, her hands firmly in place now, and bent her head to let her lips graze his proud, straight, nose. 

          Somewhere, a camera flashed.

          She pulled her hands away and she knew he was expecting her to kiss him on the mouth, on his sensually shaped lips that even tempted her. But no; kisses were auspicious, she reminded herself, not given because his lips were particularly well shaped, as if made for kissing.

           But she did what she had planned to do. 

          She ran, well as fast as you could run in two inch heels. 

          He tried to tell himself that the clicking of the sandals weren't her and he snapped his eyes open, to see her turn in a corner. The little minx! He followed her, running, chasing her like a little boy and when he curved around the corner, he couldn't see her anywhere. The cameraman stood near the hallway and winked at him. He walked calmly to him and whispered, "Check the closet to the right, that's where your miss went."

          He gave him a grateful look, "Thanks!"

          Alright, so she wanted to play cat and mouse. He would. For minutes he roamed about the hallways, ridiculously calling her name, trying to not gain her suspicion, and think she was given away so that he'd have to chase her again. Nay, he wanted her cornered.

          She panted and touched her hands to her cheek. God! What did she think, she could escape him? They _did_ sleep in the same room, on the same bed! What if he tried it in bed? But she'd ridiculously ran. Then again, she did fulfill his bet. She had nothing to fear. 

          She did apparently when the door knob twisted and stepped in the last person the face of the universe she wanted to see—Van. 

          He gave her an amused smile, "Nice foreplay, sweetheart."

          "Wh-what do you mean?" It was a coat closet and she reflexively found herself burying her skull deeper in the coats, trying to get as much distance as she could from him. 

          "What I mean is exactly what I said. Obviously, you haven't fulfilled your bet. I didn't get my kiss." He inched even closer, his eyes so heated that they were like red melting lava on a mountain of rich brown earth. She was nervous and her hands started to become clammy. God, she was a woman of twenty four! She shouldn't be so frightened…but she knew that this man's kiss would be different, different in a very perilous manner. She was scared of what he'd make her feel. He had such control over her body, needing only a moment to have her scalded, bathed in his heat.

          "I bet that I would give you a kiss, you didn't specify where," she said stiffly. "I fulfilled my bargain." 

          "You knew what I meant," he taunted her, "What happened to your morals now? Cheating is cheating."

          "I don't think it's very respectable of a gentleman to ask a lady for a kiss for a bet," she said, backing away from him, knowing that there was a wall and she was going to get trapped. Damn. 

          He laughed, "Many men have bet on a kiss, haven't you read novels?" All the while, he'd breached the distance between them, so that she was beneath him, pinned to the wall, his hot breath fanning her.

          "This is _not_ a novel," she said stubbornly, meeting his eyes fiercely. Many a romance novel had the woman stuck in such positions and she would too maybe dream of being stuck in a closet with a sinfully, hot, vital male, but this was not what she'd imagined. No, no, no! She wanted to go back to just fantasizing and sometimes she realized, these little fantasies came to haunt you; great, so now God was against her. 

          He frowned darkly, "Well, I am _not_ respectable and certainly _not_ very gentlemanly so you needn't concern yourself with that." If only he wouldn't be so close to her, if only he'd step away, she was breathing shallowly and for a moment she considered faking a faint. "Besides, I don't want you to illusion into thinking I am any of those."

          Her eyes were like green blazes, "You're a barbaric, uncouth…_pirate_!"

          "Why thank you very much, I always wanted to be one when I was a lad," he said in mild amusement, his lips curving into a smile that a god would be jealous of. It was a nice analogy, he was going to steal something from her; he might as well be a pirate stealing her treasured kiss. 

          She started trembling, and raised her hands to lie on his chest. She felt very drained and edgy, and not meeting her eyes, she gave away one of her weakness to him. "I-I am afraid."

          "_Afraid_?" his voice was tender, gentle, not mocking. Concerned. He was in no hurry.

          She faced him, "I am afraid, I don't have very much experience in these matters…and I don't kiss quite well." She looked at the wall of his chest, because she knew she couldn't make herself look into his eyes.

          "Sweetheart," he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, "I am not going to turn into some Beast, I am a man and will remain that way." He knew that the best way to wrench her out of her shyness was by teasing. "Even though, Belle kissed the Beast and he turned into a man, I am afraid; I don't have such a dire curse. The most it could do by getting kissed by a Damsel is maybe I'd turn into an angel from a Devil as you call me." He gave her a crooked grin. _A dire curse would be that I might want to kiss you again… _He was afraid as well; afraid that one taste of her lips wouldn't be enough. But this was a test; if she was a passing curiosity then one taste would be enough and if not…God help him! 

          His comments brought a smile to her face and he relaxed, his arm rested on the wall, "Now, are you ready?"

          "No," he gave a laugh at frank her answer. She seemed uncertain, but at least not frightened. 

          His other hand stroked her jaw, her cheeks, softly, gently, as if he was venerating her skin. "I am going to teach you how to, darling." 

          With those words, he didn't even give her a moment to pause or say something. He dipped his head, finding her mouth.

          Her lips were like rose petals, it's softness inviting and his lips molded over hers, his body covering her head to toe, his one hand on her nape, his other on her waist, pulling her closer. She was sandwiched between him and the wall, a palm pressed onto his chest, another on his shoulder and couldn't help but become swept up in the most ardently fierce kiss she'd ever received.

          He kissed devastatingly, consuming not only her lips, but her mind, leaving her unable to utter a coherent thought, her body paralyzed in a mist of emotions that she couldn't even begin to decipher. His mouth was experienced as he sucked on her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her. 

          Briefly, he pulled away, both being shocked at their lost contact, "Kiss me back, darling!" It was a plea, a request, a command. 

          And she gave in. She couldn't even think now, becoming a mere shell, entrapped in his kiss, spellbound to his calling. This time, it was her who caught his lips, and she used all his tricks on _him_, at first being a gentle mating of two lips, her body pressing to his, so that she was leaning onto him. He groaned low in his throat and she could feel his hard body over her. 

          Then, the kiss became violently tender, nipping, sucking, tasting, skimming. While her inexperienced skating lips took command of his body, her hands all over him, touching, caressing, soothing, and maddening him to the brink. He nearly lost control as he pushed her to the wall, his lips taking control, and he didn't know when he became from the seducer to the seduced. Very feverishly seduced. 

           His hands became frantic; brushing her sides, feeling the supple skin beneath that was just layers of whisper-like cloth away. Their kiss was hot, urgent, need laced in every second, and it wasn't until he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, did she realize what she was doing, what she had done, and what they were about to do. 

          "Stop, Van," she pleaded against his mouth, "Please _stop_, Van!"

          Never before had a woman refused him and it took him moments to rise up from the precarious sea of need, desire and want he'd been sinking very rapidly into.      

          His eyes were like magenta coals, his face dark with passion, his body thoroughly aroused. _And she says she doesn't kiss well!!!_ They were silent, heaving against each other, catching their breaths, still holding each other, getting back to reality. 

          His chest ached, and the sheer effort that took him to leave the pleasure of her lips nearly killed him. He tore away from her. He was like one of the thirsty desert men given only a drop of water and expected to quench his thirst. He had to mentally chain his body, restrict it, because he knew if he got a chance, his lips would be where they seemed to belong: on her, and not just her lips. He inhaled deeply, the intake soothing him very slightly, and he crushed her to him, eliciting a gasp from her lips and a protest, "Van!"

          "Shh, Hitomi. Darling, you don't want me to let you go." For once he was glad she knew what he was referring to, because she was he realized, probably as bit aroused as he was. If he could see her face, he would be loosing all the last few threads of control and go berserk and indeed turn into a full blown Devil. Her kiss awakened the passion that he'd kept within him, the brutal, undiluted sensuality that no other woman evoked. Nay, he did not become an angel.

          It seemed like an Eternity when his iron grip loosened and gradually, little by little, he released, with each bit, feeling colder, and colder, as if he was also letting go of something that _belonged_ to him. _She doesn't belong to you! No, no! Damn you, Fanel! You aren't going to get out of this without scathing her..._

_          ...or yourself._

The realization sunk into him. She was no passing curiosity. Then, what was she, exactly? He was uncertain. 

          Now, the overarching question was: what was he supposed to do? He couldn't ignore it, no and neither could or should she. 

          This was a time to be honest; honesty was always a good way to tackle problems, but he wasn't quite sure if the situation they were in was a 'problem.' "I am not sorry I kissed or you kissed me back." He heaved, and he stood up straight, lightly with his graceful fingers brushed her hair into some semblance of order. 

          Her lips were swollen and red, no longer remaining the innocent pink. She appeared thoroughly ravaged, even though they hadn't even deepened their kiss. She was also angry. "I hate you!" she hissed and her eyes were glinting, "you come along smiling, kiss me until I can't even hear my thoughts, and then have the nerve to say _that_! Damn you, Van Fanel! Why did you do this?" Even bitterness and anger couldn't mask the hurt that was evident in every word she spoke. 

          He knew what she was referring to. Kisses were special tokens, tokens of love, and this was no such thing. Van Fanel didn't know such a thing even _existed_ and he surely wasn't going to pledge undying love to her. 

          She blinked.

          The scintillating colors of the rainbow were locked into the lone tear as it ran its course down the cheek. She raised her hand to scrub it off, but he stopped her swiftly. Keeping her hand in place by his, the fingers of his other hand wiped her tear away. 

           "I am sorry you're hurt, but I won't apologize because we kissed." His answer was firm, final and sure. 

          He only met her vulnerable, wobbly smile that screamed she was as affected by the kiss as he was. "I never knew flying was _this_ exhilarating."

          He was stunned.  

~*~

          The events of the evening hadn't been erased and he had a strange feeling that he'd never disregard, or fail to remember what her lips felt on his, or any of the minute details of their pleasure. 

          The room was dimly lit and her eyes were closed and sleeping. She'd been quiet, reticent, having those questioning eyes that seemed to know him, know whatever went in his mind, in his dark soul. 

          The last time he'd been on his knees it had probably been when he was seven and because he'd wanted a bicycle from God. But now, he found himself doing exactly that and this time he sought forgiveness, his motivation purely un-selfish.

          His dark hair labeled him a dark fellow whose one look from his auburn eyes could leave a female soulless. He had a face was sculpted richly with details as if an artist had spent ages just making him. His jaw was firm and strong, his dark lashes long against the wheat-golden skin of his face that had women fantasizing about its texture, specifically how it would feel under their lips, their hands...

          ...and the only woman he cared for wanted to kiss his nose in a gesture that represented her ultimate sweetness.

          He found himself on his knees, watching her, just watching her quietly. She didn't deserve something cheap, some little fling, enlightenment in the wonders of lovemaking. His words were disjointed, not even making sense to him but little by little coherent phrases began, "God, I haven't laughed so much in my entire life than just laughing with you for two days. I am no knight for you, darling, I can't be one. You said, I am a pirate, a Devil; both of which you have no room for in your life.  You need someone better, who'll protect you, love you, treasure you..." 

          He noticed the subtle shape of her eyebrow changing but he continued on, not even waiting to check if she was asleep or awake. "Do you know what I thought you were when I saw you? An angel. God, if I could be killed for every time I felt jealous, I think I would be turning in my grave now. You know who I am jealous of, don't you? Your Right One. I despise him, and I am jealous of him in an ungodly way. I don't even have any right over you!" his face darkened, "But sometimes, I want you to not smile so sweetly, not laugh like sunshine, not be so...wonderful." Her iris moved beneath her lids rapidly. Was she dreaming? Aye, probably of her knight in shining armor. 

          Which. Was. Not. Him.

            His jaw hardened, face taut, "And you know what I wanted to secretly be able to feel? I wanted to know what paradise felt like." He gave a low, ironic chuckle, "Mother always lectured me on being steadfast in my prayers, always talked about the wonders of paradise and I just wanted to do know what it felt like. Do you want to know what it feels like? Your kiss felt like I tasted Paradise. You are my Paradise, sweetheart. You're the closest I'll ever come to it." He breathed raggedly, "I am afraid Devils and pirates aren't exactly the type to be granted passage to Heaven." A lock covered her face and he gently, with the tips of his fingers, brushed it to the side. "You deserve a Paradise of your own. Go make some man the happiest mortal alive...and know what? Be happy. You deserve to be the happiest woman in the world." His mouth got very, very dry and his voice became more and more broken so much that he had to pause. "But can I ask you a favor? Don't amuse him as much as you make me laugh, please? And don't call him Devil or pirate, either."

          He looked at her lovely face, "Till your Right One comes, I am going to be a selfish bastard and be a possessive man and take care of you."

          He couldn't continue anymore. He knew it; the tightening of his throat, the need that his lips felt to touch hers, his arms as if made only for the purpose of holding her in place. Near him, to him, until he could hear her heartbeats with his own.

          He turned to get up, and going to his side of the bed, he silently parted the covers and slithered in, covering her and himself. Tonight, he wouldn't touch her, pull her to himself and be selfish--   

          She shifted on the bed, surging to a sitting position, her eyes wide open and shining like two jewels, her hair tumbling over her, and her mouth agape. An aching whisper tore from her chest, she'd heard everything. "_Van!_"

          He didn't even stop to think, to reason, to feel the sensitivity of the situation and every promise he'd made, every vow went out the window to the oblivion. 

          He did what came natural: he snatched her in his arms in a bone crushing embrace. It embodied everything, longing, the ache, the need. It took him a moment to sense she was shaking and whispering fiercely, the things she said melting any Devil. "I don't want a knight in shining armor, Van. Devil, angel, pirate, whatever you are; I want you. _I _want_ you_."

          Her curves melted over him, and he didn't realize the moment he begun kissing her, zipping his lips over the column of her neck, the contact like that of a feather, coming to softly kiss her cheek, her nose, her eyelids and then violently overwhelming her with his powerful embrace. Her hands were holding him tightly to her and he thought he would be the last person who'd ever say such a tender thing, "Don't let go of me, darling! Just _don't_..." It was an unbearably close hug, and slowly, they pushed themselves on the bed, so even in lying, they held each other intensely. He pressed his lips to her hair, not asking for more, not _wanting to want_ more! It seemed that nothing heightened the proximity between them, and hence he pulled her to lie on top of him, making the position as comfortable as he could.

          Their heartbeats were the rhythm to this new feeling, each one ironically memorizing another, knowing for some quaint reason that they needed to do so. 

          When Van Fanel had kissed her it was as if he'd engraved his lips upon hers, branded himself on her, marked her. No matter how much she scrubbed, how much water she used to cleanse her lips, she would never rid of the sensation of his lips on hers, the feel, the melting sweetness, the promise of his kiss, the sweet abandon.

          She curved her arm around his neck, their body intimately touching every place it could. Her left palm rested at the side of his chest, which he encompassed with his own providing a steady source of warmth, and neither realized the absolute tenderness of the gesture. 

          Thus they slept, wrapped in the embrace of a mysterious element heard more often of, than seen, yet one that these two individuals hadn't the vaguest idea of.

           Love. 
    
    _~But this, in which there is no I or you,_
    
    _So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,_
    
    _So intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.~_
    
    --Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII "I Do Not Love You"

**Review Replies: **

**Chan Yoruyamatiha: **What do you think of the tension, NOW? XD, it is growning…and growing quite exponentially…*cackles* feel sorry for poor Van though…

**Fluffy'sbabe****: **Allen…hmm…ye'll be seeing him, will have Hitomi dealin' with him. ^_______^; Thanks for commenting and reading!!! ^_^

**Sakura Onto Hitomi: **Thanks. ^_^ Here was more…

**Sirit0:** O_o;; Do you know how much your reviews make me quake in my chair?? You scare me, if you don't mind me saying…XD, too weird…I hope there's not a way to kill over the net…*gulps and yells for Van to protect her* Heh, what did you think of this chapter? 

**Bisexual Pygmy: **Nope, that wasn't Chid. ^^;;

**Vi3tBaBi: **Sorry about the spacing, that's why I said to paste it onto Microsoft word…^^;;;…but glad you liked the fluff…how was this chapter, now? XD Fluffy enough? ^_~

**Angelfires****: **Thanks! ^_^ I did keep on going. ^_~

**Dreamingofflyingaway****:** XD that's apparently what Hitomi dreams of as well…flying away. *blushes* Gosh, you know how to inflate someone's nonexistent ego, surely! -_-;; No, no no, there's not much to the blonde woman…sorry. This story is pretty straightforward and basically one of discovering that sometimes the right person for you is the last one you'd expect to be…err..that would be Allen, ne (ughh, but he's not it!!). Anyway, thanks a bunch. ^_^ Always enjoy your "badgering."

**Kawaii**** neko: **Nope, the blonde woman was insignificant…it wasn't Milly… ^_^;;;  Yeah, I noticed the messed up formatting…gyah, I am gonna edit this ficced all nicely once I am done, including formatting. ^_^; Thanks though for still reading!! 

**Daisy31**: Heh, that's good to hear! ^________^ Was this interesting enough? *winks* Man, this chapter came out fast, I had it done on Wednesday… ^^;;

**Kya77:** Glad ye liked the chapter. ^________^ What do you think of this one? And what was confusing? O.O;;; Just wanna clear your confusion…

**Blubb****:** XD, I am glad I am humoring everyone. ^________^ How was this one? LOL! Your review made me laugh/smile…I know, I'd like to pull Allen by his hair and make him bald or something…XD, I was ye knowing, messing with the idea of making him gay in this one…heh, nothing against gay people, though. ^^; Keep reviewing!! You made me smile!! 

**Wink57CS: **heeey!! Thanks a loot! XD, I know, this is a major one for any girl's dreams and fantasies…*high five with Franzi* and especially her. XD, I don't think I'll ever think of hitchhiking during the winter snow as same… Feminine mush? ^______^ Hey, it's never bad to be feminie…especially when it concerns Van…^__________^

**Epiphanystars****: **Thanks a lot!! ^____^ Aye, I am glad it has a mixture of sweetness…how was this chapter? XD ^_^ I enjoyed writing this immensely.

**Psycangotic****:** Two in the morning? O.o;;; Gosh, girl, what were you doing awake at that ungodly hour? Heh, I usually close my lil' circus (my mind…-_-;;) by one at max…though I must say I've been staying up till 2:30 these days just thinking and listening to music… Anywhoo! Glad you liked it!! R&R!!

**AtZiRk****:** Whoa…isn't it, erm, painful to type like that? XD ^_^ How long are they gonna stay at the hotel…Weeell, I can't blow the cover…:p you'll have to stick around and find out…but the length of this chapter should give you a hint…*huffs*…did I say something? ^_~

**SabineballZ****:** *cowers* Soorry! Yeah, yeah, the length of this chapter did good for me, and it's gonna be 7 chapters long as planned. ^_________^ I am sorry if that disappoints you, but it's gonna be over 100 pages of Verdana 10 pt of reading in the end, I can tell you that. ^_______^ Thanks a lot for reviewing… the story is coming to a close very quickly…*sighs* already more than half-way finished…

**Ali:** *blushes* I am glad you enjoyed it!! How was this, now?

**Miroku34:** *giggles* Weeell, one o' my most consistent reviewers, what did you think of this one? LOL if the previous one left you speechless, wonder what this did to you…*muses and laughs* ^_________^ Thank-you, your comments keep me going. J 

**Dariel****:** Aaaah, down to the birthday girl!!! BWAHAHAHA! LOL, that's what I love about b-day presents…they make ye feel like it's yer birthday everytime ye receive a present. *high five with Franzi and then pulls her into a hug* Gosh, ye bloody mind reader!! ^___________^ There was your closet scene!! XD, have I been digging in your mind or what, or is it vice versa…? Aye, aye, lol! I laughed soo much when I read your review…*grins madly* It would take ALL of him to warm her. ^__________^ Aye, *sighs sadly* I would wish it would be winter too forever if it meant being warmed by him. Indeed, love is in the air!! Heh, ye wonder how they'll wake up next morning…XD, *twists hair in fingers* lol, will try to not make ye be scandalized or faint dead… Right, right, I understood your story…such is Fate. It was because of Allen she met the life-changing person. Ye would clean the whole house?! I would clean my whole street neighbors bloody houses!!! Bwahaha!! Soooorry, no aproned Van… XD *winks* Ye naughty girl! Bwahaha, just kidding! ^_________^*blushes* Me tooo, I would have bolted the door…had some nice background music playing…*sniffs*…he's not real Franzi!! T________T MR SCALDING MILK had me in giggles!!!! ^_______________^ Aye, aye, I hope the kiss made yer heart flutter a bit. ^_~ I know, *dreams* a guy watching your movements, and xD he's very quite possessive of her as well. ^__________^  LOL , he has a problem with men lookin' at a certain somebody's legs…*winks*…

Oohh!! Yeah, before I forget…Franzi, gosh, I doona even know where to start!! We have a story for "Windancer" and ohmegosh!! It's sooooo goooood!!! I think Aina will fill ye in on it..it's gonna be an original that we might be working on, ye wanna work as well? (XD, we took the liberty to make that decision and said that you'd work as well) but just making sure, now. *sweatdrops* It's bloody wonderful, that's all I can say!!! 

**Meg-skylark:** Whoa…*uneasy laughter* Gosh, have ye read any of Ryuu Angel's and Dariel's works? Then you wouldn't be saying that this is the best fic ever. T__T…but all the same, I am flattered and ye made me smile. XD exactly!!!! The more I hate you, the more I love you. Actually there's a very thin line that separates love and hate… ^_^;;; XD  How was this for you, now? All the fluff and drama and the tension so much that you could touch it? ^___________^ 

**A/N: Uugh, a bit tired to write the notes, but heh, there really isn't much to say. OHHH YEAH! XD, Read Ryuu Angel's new fic and Dariel's new one as well. You won't be disappointed, trust me!!! XD, "Dream Chaser" is the birthday present Ryuu Angel bestowed upon me *hugs Aina much so madly that she canna breathe* (Indeed, Aina-girl, I am still doing what the title indicates…*sniffs*) and "What a rainbow feels like" by the great Dariel is soooo funny and decidated to our friendship (lol, clover leaf friendship with Ryuu Angel, Dariel herself and me…XD)!!! I loooved it!! Bwahaha. *hugs Franzi in a bear hug and crushes her***

** K, *wipes tear away* this fic IS gonna be 7 chaps long! More than half o' it is over…*sighs*… Till then, review, my wonderful people. ^___________^ Aye, I think I'll do review replies again. Thank you all for your encouraging response. Canna thank you all enough!! **

**Until the next chapter!  R&R!! **


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter 5: Into the Sun**

_If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?_

--Kahlil Gibran

She had never felt, known, the true essence of that word. Cocoon. That's what she was: cocooned in an embrace that seemed like a vice, the shackles of sin that clung to one's spirit, _requiring_ its presence to be sensed. It wasn't just any embrace. It was _his_.

Wholly, unfailingly, his.

Her eyes drooped heavily, wanting to just sink, bury her face amidst the circle of heat and forget, lose herself. Oh, that she had already done, she realized rather numbingly. She walked, talked, saw, a different Hitomi. This was not the reserved, polite, well-mannered, Hitomi Kanzaki she had known all her life. With him, she was bold, brash, saucy at times, and infinitely crude in behavior. With him, she felt alive, naughty, and...beautiful.

But oh, there were some things she had not allowed herself to sample, some things she guarded like a lion safeguarding his cubs.

Desire. Need.

There wasn't anyone she had _needed_ so desperately, so _unreasonably_ that it decayed all the bits of practicality and shrewd judgment she possessed. She had become what she had feared, despised most in her sex: needy.

It was unconscious, really. She would even demand he pay heed to her, not the random babe that crossed the way. But he didn't pay attention to the random babe. He gazed at her as if he was the only female alive to him and his survival depended on her happiness. But, like all animals and people, there were always other ways of surviving, living, and she knew his...devotion, his interest?...in her would be evanescent. Like all good things...fade away. Nothing was immortal, why would their attraction be anything even close to that?

But he made her weak, she realized, weak _and_ strong at the same time.

And she hated that.

Her eyes slowly skated over to his face that was a mere inch away from hers. She bit her lip, trying to hide the reluctant smile that fought to grace her countenance. If side-effects were written on people's foreheads like on medicine labels, she knew his list would be infinite, starting with...

_Warning: Sinful! May cause heartbreak, possible insanity, and often may indulge in unwanted/wanted (_always_ "wanted" after future reflection, though) passion that has an overwhelming probability for being a detriment to future prospects with other men..._

Her stubborn heart reminded her: she even liked that.

She liked him all too much.

Too much for a woman who was almost promised to another man. She was being bland in admitting she "liked" him. That was an injury to him, an understatement. Illicit passion, fathomless giving of one-self, emotion so devastatingly brimming until she couldn't take it anymore...that was the way she felt with him; those were the things associated with him.

It wasn't so much troubling that she felt those things...but she feared that it was only one-sided. Did he feel any of those things?

Her eyes once again swept up to his face where beams of sunlight danced. She told herself she wasn't disappointed, she wasn't sorry, she wasn't many things—

But she was.

Sunlight meant the snow was melting and melted snow would mean good-bye to the raven haired man she had gotten so unconsciously attached to. She couldn't hold back a certain bitterness that crawled in her heart. This world was heartless, Fate was heartless, God was heartless. Why had she, of all the females in the universe, had the misfortune of meeting this forsaken man who could twist her into knots, untangle her and mold her into anything he wanted—and have no intention of having some sort of commitment? _Maybe it has to do with your non-existent luck, Hitomi!_

A low groan was effective in bringing her back to the present moment. The present moment in which Van Fanel was nibbling on her collarbone and running his hands over her waist, her body feeling jolted as if she was sitting...er..._lounging_ on an electric chair. She writhed like a snake caught in a bush until maroon eyes lazily opened, their effect as shocking as that of headlights that suddenly turned on in the stillness of the dark.

She sucked in her breath.

His dark, straight eyebrows furrowed and he muttered gruffly, "Sorry."

It came as no surprise that with the morning sun, rose a certain male anatomy part as well and the insistent poke below proved that. She had to avoid a gasp as he switched positions and he sealed her beneath himself and in that torrid breath, he spoke in a thick authentic accent. "Buena mañana, mi amor."

"You speak Spanish?" she breathed shallowly, her voice coming in that shade of softness with a slight un-threatening hiss, while trying to regulate her beats, trying to not go on a complete meltdown. His harmless words had the potential of seduction, his voice smoky and scratchy.

"Yeah," he grinned. "My mother is Spanish."

Visions of beautiful Spanish females filled her mind, pale, dark eyed, ebony haired goddess. _Right. I am sure he has many of those faceless women crawling over him if he ever goes to visit. _

She put a lid to her growing thoughts of uncertainty and smiled sideways. "Gutenmorgen, mein Teufel."

He raised an eyebrow. "And let me guess—you just spoke German?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically and giggled faintly, "Brilliant, Van."

He winked, "You echo my thoughts, chica." She stopped smiling when she realized his breaths were so close, his lips mere inches away. She blinked twice. _Clear your head, girl. Breathe, breathe..._His voice was husky, "And how did you learn German?"

She looked away, away from his face that she'd started to find so endearing. "My father is German," and as if she had read his mind, she answered, "my mother was an exchange in student there from Ireland when they met and fell in love."

His fingertips were gentle when they touched the corner of her eyes, though still making her blink, then close them. "Your eyes are greener than the hills in Ireland."

Her lids opened to show laughter peeking from its depths. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way—" his eyes were encouraging, "but your eyes are like Spanish saffron."

He fought hard to keep his face straight, struggled to keep his composure, but his face twisted. "Spanish saffron? Very original, I must say." He threw back his head and laughed, the bed shaking with him. To make her join his merriment, he did the most horrifying thing: he started tickling her. They rolled on the bed, laughing as though they were two careless children, having no cares.

Thump.

They landed on the floor, her atop him. There was an awkward pause, a kind dangerous calm that had the possibility of changing everything between two individuals. A volta. _Jump, jump!_ Her conscience bickered within her. _Do it._ The look in his eyes was like a fierce fire that seemed to make her face burn with embarrassment, not even wanting to guess as to what he was thinking.

She did, what later she reflected was one of the smartest things she could've done.

She pulled herself together and lifted herself from him, not hearing the insistent whisper, "Hitomi..." Perhaps, it was better that she hadn't.

Van Fanel: age 26, was the kind of personage who had the ability to mold her to whatever he wanted, elicit any type of reaction he desired from her... but what made him different from a intimidating person who had such control was the fact that he encouraged her to be what she wanted to be, he brought forth the hidden depths of Hitomi Kanzaki that had been unknown to her to the surface.

She sighed as she fingered the material of the bed-skirt. Now, where would this all go?

_Grew up in a small town  
And when the rain would fall down  
I just stared out my window  
Dreaming of a could-be  
And if I'd end up happy  
I would pray (I would pray)_

oooo

Some said it was an aprosodiac, that it generated endorphins, the creamy, velvety richness that children and adults alike loved to indulge their senses in. Currently, it was the object of much concentration: chocolate.

"Van," she frowned, "It's looking too thin."

He looked over her head to the pot where the substance was boiling. They were making chocolate mousse and waiting for the mixture to thicken, and the watery consistency was not even a bit close to the airy feel they desired for the mousse.

Chuckling, while beads of sweat lined her eyebrows, he stirred the liquid. "The corn flour will thicken it and then we have to beat it with the whipping cream." He ruffled her hair affectionately, "Don't worry your pretty head over that." Feeling more whimsical than he had in a while, he dipped his fingers in the separate bowl of thick melted chocolate and before she could speak—splat!—he had painted her face with chocolate, lines running across her right cheek.

The others turned their heads and laughed and Hitomi gave him a mock glare, a bubble of laughter waiting to erupt on her lips. She grabbed hold of the straps of his apron (which had mini red hearts printed all over the white cloth, and had taken Hitomi quite some convincement for him to wear), "You Mister, you're going to have to clean up the mess!" His eyes danced, a merry mix of cinnamon and wine.

"As you say, your Highness." He winked.

After getting someone else to look after their creation, they entered the empty half-bath. She stood in front of the mirror, his figure towering over her in the mirror. She raised her brow, a silent order, as she looked through the mirror at him.

A split second was all it took.

Clasping her around the shoulder and turning her so that she faced him, his mouth latched onto her cheek, and to her shock, his lips skated over her cheek, using his tongue, he licked all the chocolate away.

She blinked, still astonished, and her face turned an odd shade of tomato when he whispered into the shell of her ear, his breath faintly ticklish and... exciting? "You taste delicious."

She wrenched away, her eyes confused whether to be shocked or laugh, "And your sense of decency is disgusting."

He wasn't fazed, observing her as if she was humoring him. "Really?" he drawled. "Somehow," his fingertips touched her cheek, "you deprive me of all decency."

She gasped slightly, ignoring the shiver and the tremble of her hands.

She'd already closed her eyes when his lips descended, gently skating on hers, sweetly and tenderly. He nipped on corner of her mouth, then meeting her lips again and pulling them into a fierce mating.

Later, as they had silently entered the kitchen, Hitomi's face was still red and the cooks and employees nudged each other on their shoulders and masked their grins. Apparently, Hitomi's "husband" was still very much, err...physically interested in her and they all approved of the fact; God knew they were in so much love. Or so the cooks thought.

oooo

He fixed the collar of his shirt casually as he spoke, "You never told me what you do.

She smiled, warming to the subject as she picked on some of her lasagna. She'd always liked her work, "I work with foreign relations for _Macrotile Industries_."

He raised his eyebrow, "You like your work?"

She nodded firmly, "I always did like people, interaction." She smiled widely, "I get an excuse to travel! But sometimes, I volunteer at the animal shelter."

Presently, she was dressed in a lavender cable sweater that outlined her curvaceous figure and Van Fanel for the love of God, thought of how he would be able to keep his hands off of her. She was blissfully unaware that her mere existence was seductive. Settling her eyes on him, she asked what he knew she would. "What do you do?"

He gave her a slow smile, and kept his lashes down sheepishly, "I am the manager of a locally successful department store."

There was just a slight flash of surprise in her eyes but that faded and she looked at him as she would normally. "And do you enjoy your job?" Somehow she was surprised that Van Fanel, with his superior behavior would be a, well, manager. Not that she had anything against that, she thought hastily, secretly wishing that she did. Atleast that would dampen his allure. But, Hitomi Kanzaki, unfortunately, was not one to chase after money.

He shrugged, "Always looking for a higher position."

It was when they went outside to watch the melting snow when the fight occurred, when their path was made separate as light differed from darkness.

He had been awfully quiet during the whole night and it was a surprise when his arms came around her waist, and he tucked her under his chin, pulling her to his length.

She gasped, "Van."

"Shh...let me hold you."

Her voice softened into an accusatory tone. "You always take advantage of me at every opportunity. The more I run from you, the closer you pull me; if I want to forget you, you leave an insistent reminder that forces me not to." He released her, his hands immediately turning cold, very cold.

Her eyes met his, an honest, nakedness to it. "What do you want from me, Van?"

He gazed steadily, wanting to cage her in his arms because the expression on her face resembled that of a child's with her hair rumpled, her face looking small, her lashes long, but instead he answered her question truthfully. "I don't know."

He ignored the hope that flickered in her eyes. "Do we have a future together, Van? _Do we?_" She looked at her shoe, "I wouldn't ask too much of you—" a wobbly smile crossed her lips, "I'm not 'high maintenance' either."

He didn't answer, his throat suddenly constricting, unable to utter a word. What kind of response was he supposed to give? If he was decent, he would snatch her into an embrace, smell her fragrant hair and confess his undying love—except he did not feel love. No, this was absolutely not love. She deserved something better than a hotel fling.

The silence was like a knife that sliced through her heart, turning it into shreds.

Finally, he spoke, "I don't know."

"At least I know I won't be around waiting for the day that you _do_ know." She bit her lip, trying not to choke on the words, looking at her fingers, "I think I'd like to be left alone."

He nodded, taking one good look at her, and then he turned back, closing the door behind her. Sighing, he leaned against it, sealing his eyes as if willing to escape from a nightmare. Outside the door, she leaned as well, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.

Their charade couldn't have lasted forever, anyway. The snow was on its way to melting and the sun shone brilliantly, quite as unpredictably as the changes in their relationship which had started out as mere strangers.

But, it was time to move on. Move on to whatever their destinies held. It was time for goodbye.

oooo

_Trying not to reach out  
But when I'd try to speak out  
Felt like no one could hear me  
Wanted to belong here  
But something felt so wrong here  
So I pray (I would pray)  
I could breakaway_

They had spent the rest of the afternoon separately, each going their way. She had reflected on her past life, thought of the storms that she had to overcome...mainly Allen's when he found out that she would not marry him.

A wan smile graced her features when her eyes struck the picture of her family. Mamoru...mother... she had missed them so much. Her father. It was an ache that she tried to suppress, but it was ever-present: her father had passed away in an automobile accident five years ago. There were still nights when she would awaken screaming, have nightmares about the phone call that delivered the horrifying news.

Placing the picture in her purse, she zipped it with a final deep exhale. Turning, her eyes met rust colored ones, and it felt as though her eyes weren't the only thing colliding...maybe it was their souls, their beings.

She gave him a vague, polite smile. "Farewell." The employees busied themselves, pretending not to look, but they knew what went on. Van had lied, saying that Hitomi had to tend to her sick mother and had to leave immediately. _Ha! _She thought sarcastically, _it's at least partially true. I'm leaving to tend to _my_ sick heart._

She lifted her bag, and more confidently than she felt, she smiled once more.

He was unnerving, a silent, unmoving figure with eyes hidden under those thick eyelashes. Her heart beat frantically, the thought of never seeing him was unbearable, something she actually hadn't even considered. What if she forgot him later on? He wasn't one to be forgotten, no, he was like an angry scar that adamantly refused to fade with the day.

A flash of hair, a strong pull, even more strapping arms and she was being held tight. If he had squeezed all the life out of her in that moment, she wouldn't have cared, or maybe even noticed. When she had turned, he had dramatically caught her wrist, pulled her with such force that even if she wanted to fight it away, she couldn't.

"Won't even hug your husband good-bye?" he asked, teasingly, though his voice was serious.

Not trusting her voice, she shook her head, but moments later when he still didn't release her, she rasped, "Let me go, Van."

Slowly, he pulled away and he produced a folded paper, which he gently handed to her. "Read it when you reach home."

She sniffed (hopefully thinking that he thought it was attributed to a cold) and turned to the direction of the door.

An unpurposeful slam of the door and she was gone, disappeared into the sunlight that seemed like the end of the tunnel, the end of the tunnel to their relationship.

He shoved his hands in his pocket and as he was about to clamber the stairs, one of the employees handed him an envelope. "For you, sir."

He raised a brow, nevertheless taking it. It was when he opened the envelope, did he gape, speechless, eyes widening. _Oh my God._

oooo

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly  
I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky  
I'll make a wish  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway_

The air zipped passed him, rippling his hair in a wild dance in the wind. His estimations had been wrong about missing Hitomi a lot.

Hell, the oceans wouldn't contain enough water to show how much he missed her. It was with every breath, every second, he was reminded of her, her smile, her voice, her thoughts...

What was worse was that he was turning into a complete romantic, his definition in those who believed in such drivel like serendipity. It was almost this knowledge that if he turned, he'd find her standing there, her eyes being the embrace he'd be locked into. And he turned, drove and drove, looking for the snow-covered angel he'd let slip from his hands.

It didn't help when he saw his sister so happy with a glow that he'd never observed before lingering on her face, and her teasing on how he'd grown so serious overnight. Was he _that_ transparent? He frowned; his little chit of a sister was getting smart.

This was his third drive alone and officially the one that set his sister into a lapse of worries. There was absolutely something horribly wrong with her brother that she had known for so long. She often suspected she knew him better than she knew herself, and was simply _positive_ that this broody man who lived in the shell of her brother's body was somehow different.

It wasn't that he didn't try, she smiled wryly. He tried to hide it; more the reason to dig deeper, Merle, his sister thought. The man was absolutely mourning, she snorted, and it wasn't because he somehow felt he was "losing his little sister." In fact, he had greeted her husband-to-be, Gaddes, heartily, of-course, only after eyeing the man and making quick judgments after his first impression. She shook her head, smoothing her hair onto her scalp, his approval was essential to the marriage. She wouldn't have married if Van had deemed him unfit. For a man that had been so annoying as a boy and still was, he had a way, from the moment of his birth, of knowing what was right for her. He had a way of fixing things.

And, with a determined smile, she decided she was going to fix things for him finally. _All I have to do is tunnel deeper into the heart of problem. _Ironically, Merle didn't realize how close to the problem she was.

oooo

This was the third message he'd left on her answering machine in two hours. It was enough to irritate Allen Schezar and make him lose some of the restraint he'd been using.

Furious was an understatement. His anger was molten, a volcano that was going to explode into flames of fury any moment. He grit his teeth, and tapped the floor, if she didn't call very soon—

The phone rang and like an over-excited, teenager, he snatched it off the cradle, "_What the hell do you think you're doing?_" He reasoned, he had every right to ask her why she had disappeared completely for days, and for days he'd expected her call, and the more annoyed he got. God, they were practically engaged! What did he lack, he thought bitterly, that she would have think it over before she responded to his question?

"Would you calm down, Allen," the voice on the other end responded with a composure that caught him off-guard, Allen being ready to bite like a snake, already winding his fingers through the phone cord.

"Hitomi?" instead he asked with suspicion, as a father would ask a daughter if she'd been drinking. "Are you alright?"

"Of-course." It was funny how she felt so dead inside. Yet, it was as if she was finally aware of everything, observing herself from far away and suddenly realizing how spineless, submissive, and damned weak she had been with Allen. "How are you doing?"

Allen was dumbstruck. This was not his Hitomi; it couldn't be. Her voice almost had an unconscious sexy allure, mysterious, husky, a voice a man could make love to. "Fine. Damn it, Hitomi, you had me worried. Where were you?"

A soft sigh escaped her lips, "Yes, about that. I think we need to talk."

"We're doing that right now," he reminded smoothly.

"No, not like this. We need to meet in person." Her manner was confident, and possessed something else he couldn't place. "I'll see you at _Sarabande_ in an hour, is that alright?"

He was indignant; she couldn't ask to meet him like that any time she wanted. He was a busy man. Yet, he found himself reluctantly agreeing, "Fine. I'll see you there, then."

He waited in anticipation, pausing for her usual farewell words. "Bye. Talk to you later." The phone clicked.

_Oh my God. _It hadn't come. The words he'd grown accustomed to hearing. _I love you, bye._

Straightening his tie, Allen Schezar decided that something was terribly amiss with his soon to be fiancée. However, whatever was wrong, he decided, their engagement would not be delayed, or hindered in any manner.

Hitomi lay still on the bed just thinking, her fingers, not realizing touching the lips that had been branded forever. A slow smile grew on her face, wobbly at first, then firmer; he was a beautiful experience, something she'd never forget.

_Out of the darkness and into the sun  
But I won't forget all the ones that I loved  
I'll take a risk  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway_

Moisture trickled down her cheeks and she was mortified to realize a tear had slipped out of her eyes. Wiping it away hastily, she frowned and walked into the bathroom to get ready for Allen. _Pathetic, Hitomi...you will absolutely not cry again!_

_Sarabande_ was a popular café whose elegance was belied by defining it as a café. It was fashionably decorated with warm, decorative, low hanging lamps, and cheerful tables set for couples with attentive waiters, the ambience of luxury wafting as languorous business men dominated the area with their respective female companions.

She sipped her coffee, inhaling its fragrance, "And?" he asked impatiently, "when will you finally decide to tell me of where you vanished? "

Raising her eyes, she met his, and her face deepened into a troubling thought. Speaking softly she said, "I can't be your fiancée."

He quirked his eyebrow, dismissing her statement, "What does that have to do with your disappearance?" She wasn't serious...

...was she?

"I fell in love," she said simply. It was then he took notice of her face. Her skin was shimmery, and she possessed an air of confidence he'd never noticed before...her hair was glossy, thick, and quite...endearing, almost...and eyes the color of spring grass. Then, the betrayal kicked in, the fury...

"_What?"_ he hissed, "Have I been some sort of funny game you've been playing, huh? Pretending you cared about me?"

She closed her eyes, her anger mounting as he continued, "Hitomi, you owe me something. I saved your brother from all sorts of legal trouble, I cared for you—"

"_Stop!" _Her eyes flashed, a green fire ready to lash out and Allen almost gasped. "Is that how you'll plan to bind me, huh? Just because you didn't press charges to my brother for hacking into your database? I don't even know what kind of person you are, Allen."

"Hitomi—"

"No! I want to talk right now! Dammit, you've always controlled me and I'm sick of it. My brother didn't harm you, and if you had an ounce of humanity you would forgive him provided he wouldn't do it again—which I can assure you he won't." She was shaking, livid, not knowing she even possessed the anger she displayed. People stared at her, but she ignored them, her target fixed. "All these years you've taken advantage of that, used me, and truth be told, I never loved you. I am sick of you being a tyrant in my life!" Her breaths calmed, and with a strange dignity that kept him awe, she finished. "The last time I checked, happy marriages resulted from love which both you and I don't feel for each other, it is apparent."

In a controlled voice, he asked, "Who is that bastard?" He was astonished to realize the feeling that coursed through his veins..._desire_. He wanted her even more, not realizing the fire, the depth she possessed.

She laughed bitterly, getting up from the table, "As far as I know, you're the only bastard I've come across."

His mouth was agape as she exited. And he wanted her even more. He would have her, he decided, leaning against his chair.

oooo

Heavily lidded eyes calmly watched the strawberry blonde as she leaned towards her husband, kissing his cheek. The wedding had been beautiful, the happiness evident on the lucky couple's faces like the sky that suddenly shone brilliantly.

Feeling his eyes on her, Merle turned towards her brother and opened her arms towards him. He obliged, holding her close, "You have never looked more beautiful," he said sincerely. "Positively glowing like the sun."

She grinned onto his sleeve and extracted herself from him, tilted her head to gaze into his eyes. "I have never been more happier in my life."

Her eyes suggested something else and he could only look at her with question. "Van Fanel, I was not born today to notice that you," she smiled, "you are absolutely in love." She frowned, ignoring his gaping mouth, "the only dilemma that lingers is that I don't know who is the object of your such...such...deep _affections_." She grinned widely at him. "Too bad we couldn't have two couples getting married the same day."

She had continued non-stop, not letting him say even a thing, and he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His voice was crusty as he spoke, "Am I _that_ transparent?"

She giggled gleefully, "Only to me. Now, fess up, big brother. Who is the one you love?"

He flinched at the word. Love. The word had something final about it, like the conclusion to a movie...the ending of a story...the end of a sentence...but there was no ending to what he felt in his thoughts. Their story would be no happily-ever-after. "It's not love."

She rolled her eyes, dramatically. "Then whatever it is, suit yourself. But I want to know who she is."

He didn't say a word, just carefully removed two pictures out of his wallet, watching Merle as her eyes widened. "...God."

oooo

_Wanna feel the warm breeze  
Sleep under a palm tree  
Feel the rush of the ocean  
Get onboard a fast train  
Travel on a jet plane, far away (I will)  
And breakaway_

He was in denial, he knew it. Two days after he wedding, Van had made his exit, ignoring his parents' protests and their hurt expressions. The tumult in his mind was about to explode if he stayed one more minute in a household where everyone was married except him. Funny how he got a pang of an unidentifiable emotion (it simply couldn't be jealous, he reasoned firmly) whenever he saw his older brother Folken wrap his arms around his wife's waist.

He was like a teenager, wanting to just sleep off the problem. The elevator seemed to take an eternity as it reached the fifth floor on the high rise apartment. Exhaustedly, he flicked the card and the door automatically opened.

If he had just been more observant, a little more aware, he would've realized there was a distinctly different smell in his room, a faint musk of nauseating vanilla.

"What the hell—" he gaped. Clad in red lingerie which showed more than covered with its lacy fabric, she wore a two-piece that was probably out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue and walked to him seductively. A woman who was not Hitomi. A growl sprung onto his lips and he wanted to pull his hair in frustration because he knew the woman's target. "Denise! What are you doing here?"

The woman curved her lips, her tongue purposely peeking out to moisten her lips, a seductive act performed to bait him, but it only succeeded in making him angrier. "Darling, I thought you wanted a warm welcome back." She batted her lashes, and touched his cheek, a touch that repulsed him.

He turned away so that he didn't face her and spoke in an alien, cold voice. "Put some clothes on and get out of here."

Convinced that he was playing hard to get, she smiled and ran her hands over his back, making him shudder, shudder with disgust. "You really don't mean that, honey, do you? I've missed you so much."

Cursing himself, his sudden movement to face her took her off-guard. The fury in his eyes was even more surprising. "Get the hell out of here, Denise, before I drag you out like _that_." He referred to her state of dress, or more accurately, undress.

She only pouted.

oooo

Dryden Fassa watched his sleeping fourteen-month old daughter and gently smoothed the blond curls on her head. Perhaps marrying was the best investment he had ever made, the CEO of a multi-national company thought broodingly with a smile. His wife, Millerna, or Milly as he called her affectionately, had departed yesterday for a medical conference leaving him to take care of their daughter. Oohh he would show her he was competent enough to take care of their daughter. She had worried, fretted overly too much, giving him detailed instructions for her care. His eyes crinkled into a smile, he would bloody well take care of the lil' angel.

So, it was with a surprise when the bell rung, for surely it wasn't Milly, and not many people called at such late times. When he opened the door, he was pleasantly surprised to meet him. Hair wild and needing a comb, eyes possessing an untamed quality like a beast caged, Van Fanel, he decided looked troubled.

"Van! Come on in!" he ushered him inside, closing the door quietly, remembering his sleeping daughter.

The men clapped each other's backs, a truly male practice that brought about a smile on their faces. "What do I owe the honor of your visit?" Dryden's kind brown eyes questioned.

He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring his friend's query. "How's Millerna? And Madeline?"

Dryden sighed, a smile curling on his lips, a look in his eyes that gave him the perfect image of a lover. "Both are doing well. Milly's away to a conference and Maddie's sleeping."

He knew not to poke, this man that he'd come to respect would open up when he was ready.

"I," he sighed, "I am just in trouble."

"Trouble? What kind?" Dryden inquired, "Legal or personal?"

"Personal," he croaked.

This was about to get interesting, more interesting than the show he had planned to watch—_World's Unsolvable Mysteries_.

"Spill, man."

Van inhaled, dismissing his thoughts of how he escaped Denise, that wretch. "It's a long story..." Thus, he told the tale, the way he met, leaving out the passionate details. "So what do you think?" he asked finally.

"Van, have you ever considered why I married Millerna?" Dryden tried to hide his smile.

"You loved her," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I do love her. But before that, I couldn't bare it if a man even _looked_ at her, grazed her arm, talked to her. I wanted her for myself." He gave a small laugh. "It's our animal instinct. It's possessive, dark, and selfish. And as far as I am aware, you wouldn't be very happy if she married that bloke, Allen, am I right?"

_Out of the darkness and into the sun  
But I won't forget all the ones that I loved  
I'll take a risk  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway_

He didn't need an answer to confirm his suspicions. "All I'm saying is that you need to

trust yourself."

"How were you sure that one day you wouldn't be attracted to some other woman, not have time for Millerna, you know—" he made a face, "get annoyed by her?" His face sobered. "And hurt her."

He raked a hand through his wavy chocolate brown hair, "With Milly, I just _knew_. When I married her, I took a risk, a calculated risk." He grinned, "The best risk I ever took. There is no woman I want, I need except Millerna." He forced Van to meet his eyes by insistently staring at him, "Everything in this world has a risk. You have to decide that this is worth taking."

His cinnamon-maroon eyes sharpened a look of steely determination dwelled in the shiny orbs.

Miles and miles away, a green eyed woman opened the unfolded piece of paper that her beloved had given her.

Reading, she wept and wept, immediately dissolving her earlier promise.

By God. She loved him, loved him even if he rejected her.

_The heart of a man to the heart of a_

_maid - Light of my tents, be fleet –_

_Morning awaits at the end of the world,_

_And the world is all at our feet._

**_--_Rudyard Kipling**

**A/N: takes a deep shuddering breath Aye, this is me. I am alive. My hiatus was long, and I couldn't have done with all the support all of you reviewers gave me. I wanted to individually write a message for all of you but that would mean delaying the update of the chapter and I wanted to deliver this to you, ASAP. It was with the steady friendship of Dariel and Ryuu Angel that I even decided to write. Ryuu Angel was aware of a time that I decided to quit. Returning from my summer, I was bombarded with so much work with reports, tests, (in the first week of school!) and summer homework. It's now been about a month and half and I am successfully maintaining an A in all my four AP classes. **

**The pressure was mounting, to perform well, to stand out and shine amongst the hundreds of students and I had to pull myself together, and I couldn't simply write when the world around me was slipping away with my weekends punctuated with serious crying sessions. --;; I was severely weighed down, trying to re-adjust. **

**Aye, I think that had been some of the most darkest times in my life. And I canna thank all the people enough. A whole chapter worth of thank-yous wouldn't be enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You know who you are. **

**So, thus, I pulled myself together and decided to let my characters rise from the ashes and be immortalized once again in another chapter. There's a stubborn streak that runs in our family. I will be a doctor, please my parents, yes, but I will also continue writing no matter what anyone says. That's something that's wholly mine and something that nobody can take away. It's too precious for me to let go. I am incorrigible and I simply cannot stop dreaming and if I am not writing physically, I'll be writing in my mind, mentally. But, I am also moving on. After Dearly Beloved, I think there will be a three-shot VH called _Sanctuary_ (please, don't copy my title anyone...) that will come out in December. After that, I don't have any more VHs planned and I will quietly depart from the community unless I spring up with some other ideas that I simply canna resist. I don't know about the other unfinished fics yet. Still thinking. **

**I am busy with other projects that I am working on, an original that I hope to have finished by February. **

**As for happier things, my summer was fabulously exotic in India. Crazy days of shopping, spotting an extremely a rare good-looking guy with a girl I fancy that couldn't be the belle of many a ball, making me cheer for her and him. Rise to the wallflowers!! grins madly and winks at Ryuu Angel What else?—I attended parties almost everyday, checked into cooking classes rolls eyes (looong story...doona ask), sneaked out for movies, went for long walks beside the ocean, and thought of a plot for a story, another original. :D **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Breakaway." The lyrics were written by Avril Lavigne and sung by Kelly Clarkson. I suggest you listen to this wonderful song. You'll see it again. **

**What to expect for the next chapter: I simply could not resist. I think Van and Allen will meet. They just have to. XD But I felt it was important first for 'Tomi to meet and face her past and stand up for herself and not have Van rescue her. :D And o'course, Van and 'Tomi will meet again. Naturally. **

**Oh God, it feels great to be back. **

**Hope to see you soon in another chapter. Oh yes, do review. **


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